


Time, Fleeting

by LittleSammy



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy/pseuds/LittleSammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ziva is injured in the line of duty, she has to re-evaluate her life. Seven days in total and Tony/Ziva, but until then, expect a lot of hurt/comfort. Seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

**Tony's Monday**

 

"Talk to me, McGee..."

 

Ziva's voice at his side was low, slightly urgent, and it was easy to tell she was getting tense. Five endless minutes of sneaking through piled-up boxes and crates that smelled rank with mould, with no other sound meeting them except the scuttle of rats and their own careful footsteps. It began tearing at his nerves, too, and he had to bite his lip to keep from cracking bad jokes to lighten the mood.

 

Tony felt his attention begin to waver. He fell back a step or two, sneaking glances into the dark corners they had passed to double-check. There was only so much adrenaline could do, and his high was beginning to fade rapidly.

 

He blinked and tried to look past the shadows. Why did this have to be such a damn good hiding place for whatever usually lurked in the dark? He took a few shallow breaths of rank air and watched the dust twirl and sparkle lazily in the few beams of early spring sunlight coming through the threadbare roof.

 

He watched Ziva's back as she stepped through a pool of light, with the sun playing across her bare neck. She had pulled her hair into a tight knot, but one strand had come loose to brush her neck and was moving in time with her slow, steady breathing. He wanted to reach out and tuck it back in so it wouldn't distract her, and then he shook his head because who was getting sidetracked here?

 

"Still no sign of them, sorry, Ziva." McGee's voice, scratchy over the transmission, made Tony jump, and he saw Ziva glance back at him, with a smile and a wink, and yeah, he had to roll his eyes at that because it was expected.

 

"How are those heat traces coming along?" she asked in a low voice, and the sound of McGee's fingers tapping away on his keyboard translated even over the earwig.

 

"None inside the building, except yours. This is... wait a minute."

 

They both tensed at the way he suddenly sounded distracted, and Tony flexed his fingers to get a better grip on his Sig. Ziva met his gaze over her shoulder again, did a soundless little twirl with her hand, and he nodded.

 

"Guys? Get out of there, fast!" McGee's voice, so urgent and distressed all of a sudden. This time it made them both jump.

 

"Which way, Probie? We're in the middle of boxing wonderland!" Tony hissed.

 

"Continue straight ahead, then go left on the next turn you reach," McGee instructed, and they started to run. "It's a setup, Daften and his suppliers aren't there. But Metro police are getting ready to take down the warehouse right now, and from what I picked up, they're in a mean mood."

 

"Dead end, McGee," Ziva interrupted him, and the Probie cursed so colorful it made Tony raise an eyebrow. Ziva chuckled at his expression and turned back to where they had come from.

 

"Okay, back the last two turns and then go left."

 

Tony started running again, Ziva right on his six. "_Talk_ to Metro, for God's sake! Tell them we're in here."

 

"What do you think I'm trying to... no, not that way! The other left!" McGee's voice went an anxious octave higher just as Ziva went around the corner.

 

That was also the moment Tony heard the sound of shattering glass and something going dink-dink-dink on top of one pile of boxes. And then the world exploded into brightness and the stinging pain-sound of a stun grenade, and he knew that he was yelling Ziva's name because his throat felt raw even though he couldn't hear his own voice.

 

He shook his head and tried to lose the sudden dizziness, but it was hard with his eyes watering like mad and his hearing wrapped in cotton fluff. "Ziva!" he screamed again, and this time his ears popped, just in time to hear loud orders and McGee in his ear and heavy weapons being pointed hurriedly. "Federal agents!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, grabbing his badge frantically while he went around the corner. "Don't shoot! NCIS!"

 

Angry soldier voices barked at him to lose the gun, and he obeyed, repeated his identification mantra and held up his badge high while he blinked, looking for Ziva. His ears hurt, and his eyes stung, and when he raised a hand to wipe the involuntary tears away, he saw her lying on the ground. And just like that, there was a different kind of pain tearing at him.

 

"Ziva!" He started to run to her and met a gun pointed at his face, and he didn't care enough, just shouted angrily "That is my _partner_, you moron!" and pushed the man aside.

 

He went down to his knees beside her, grabbed her shoulder, and she moaned, thank God, she was alright, yes, of course she was, she was Wonder Woman's tiny Israeli stepsister, after all. He said her name again and touched her cheek to make her look at him, and she flinched at the unexpected contact and tried to fend it off.

 

"Ziva, it's me, you're alright!"

 

He kept talking to her, hoping that she could hear at least a tiny bit of his nonsense despite the flashbang that had caught her smack dab in the middle. McGee kept distracting him with silly questions like if they were alright, and finally he pulled the earwig out and dropped it to concentrate on his partner, on the ground.

 

It took about a minute of babbling mindless reassurances until she gasped and grabbed his hand hard.

 

"Tony?"

 

And he said yes and touched her cheek again, and when she turned her head his way, he cursed violently because there were burn marks and fresh rashes on the right side of her face.

 

"Get an ambulance!" he yelled at the guy next to him, and the volatile anger in Tony's voice made the man run, his face pale.

 

*** *** ***

 

When he finally had the chance to get away from the scene and the inquiries and all the damned statements that had to be taken, it was getting dark, and he was tired and confused and had the feeling of a big rock lodged in his stomach.

 

Ziva's hospital room was only dimly lit, and the first thing Tony saw when a nurse pointed him to it was Gibbs, standing vigil outside the room and staring through the observation window silently. His steps slowed with every one he took, and he felt hesitation tug at his heart. He should have been with her, not McGee. He should have kept shouting at the LEOs until he could ride along with his partner.

 

"How is she?" he asked, and Gibbs just sighed without turning his head.

 

"Blind."

 

Breathing was hard all of a sudden.

 

"What?" he pressed out. So that was what color draining from one's face felt like.

 

"Flashbang caught her almost right in the face, so her eyes took some damage."

 

"Temporary, right?" His voice didn't seem to work like it should, and he had to fight the urge to keep repeating his last word. _Right? She'll be alright, right, dad? Please make her alright again!_ He took a carefully controlled breath and pushed the old pain away. Tried to ignore the sudden roaring wave of his pulse crashing against his ear drums while he waited for an answer.

 

And then Gibbs did the unthinkable and just shrugged, and Tony's hands clenched into fists.

 

He turned his head and stared at the small woman in the hospital bed that was really too big for her. She seemed asleep but she could have just as well been drugged up to her ears. There were gauze pads bandaged over her eyes so she wouldn't try too hard to make them work again, and hell, he knew that his own personal Sydney Bristow had been trying hard for sure. He fought the urge to climb into bed with her and wrap his arms around her until she woke up again and everything was fine.

 

"How is she taking it?" he heard himself ask from too far away. Inside the room, Abby reached across the crisp sheets, took Ziva's hand and held it tightly. Good thing Zi had someone around who could show sympathy.

 

At his side, Gibbs raised a hand to rub his tense neck.

 

"Like she always does. Didn't happen."

 

Tony took another deep breath, and while he raised a hand himself to run it over his tired eyes, he heard McGee-steps in new shoes come up behind his back.

 

"I wish I hadn't sent you that way," the Probie muttered while he handed Gibbs a fresh cup of coffee, and Tony had to fight not to clench his teeth. "I should have paid more attention."

 

He didn't want to hear this right now. He was too tired and too much lost in his own to deal with McGee's guilt now. But since this was part of his job and of his friendship, too, he sighed and patted the man's shoulder.

 

"Not your fault, Probie." He felt the hard, involuntary shudder underneath his hand and turned to stare at his partner. "Timmy. It wasn't your fault."

 

McGee hesitated, biting his lip, and he didn't meet Tony's eyes, but eventually, he nodded. Tony snuck a quick glance at Gibbs, but the boss man just sipped at his coffee and continued to stare through the observation window silently.

 

"Come on," Tony said eventually, squeezing McGee's shoulder once more for good measure. "Let's see what our girls need."

 

*** *** ***

 

Abby's eyes widened impossibly when she saw him.

 

"Tony!" she squealed, which sounded funny because she tried to be really quiet at the same time. And before he could say anything, she was on her feet and had flung her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his as hard as she could. It took him by surprise that it all happened much quieter than Abby usually did any of these things. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back hard, and for just a heartbeat it wasn't her who clung.

 

"Is she awake?" he murmured quietly, and Abby drew back and shook her head. Her eyes were strangely dry, and he couldn't help but wonder why. Maybe this wasn't as bad as he had thought it was, after all. Or maybe the shock just hadn't quite set in yet.

 

"She fell asleep a few minutes ago. They did some scans and everything except her eyes seems okay, but they want to keep her here for observation." Abby's words made him clench his hands again, and she felt his tension, of course, and touched his arm in concern. "Are _you_ okay, Tony?"

 

He nodded absentmindedly. Sure he was okay. At least he guessed he was. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so numb, though, and maybe it was better that way.

 

"Yeah, they checked my ears and all. Seems I'm the one with the thicker head this time, can you believe that?"

 

Abby started to giggle at the DiNozzo charm that always got her, but halfway through the laughter, he saw her lips start to tremble and the tears were rising in her eyes, finally. And he sighed and pulled her to his chest again and stroked her back until the worst of it was over and her tears died down to a soggy sniffling.

 

In the end, she flat out refused to leave her vigil by Ziva's side to get some rest, and so she fell asleep in the chair she had dragged to the bed, with her arms and head resting on the side of the bed in a way that would make her joints hurt for sure when she woke up. Her smeared makeup left faint smudges on the no longer pristine sheets. McGee, who had pulled up another chair beside her, took over the job of stroking her back in a calm, never-ending pattern of up and down, up and down, as if that alone would be enough to make it all better.

 

Tony, in his own chair on the far side of Ziva's bed, wondered if it might. He touched two of his fingers to Ziva's wrist, seeking her pulse. It beat against his fingertips, softer than he had imagined it would feel. He looked up and met Gibbs' eyes through the observation window.

 

*** *** ***


	2. Day Two

**Ziva's Tuesday**

 

She woke up feeling dizzy and disoriented, and her mouth tasted like back in London, when she had been stuck in a stakeout place that had been little more than a hole in the wall with her partner for two days, with no way to clean up or brush their teeth.

 

Darkness enveloped her like a wool blanket - warm and comforting, but scratchy. A soft voice was humming some disjointed tunes to her right, and it felt so weird that it seemed to be a Hebrew children's song. Then she recognized Abby's voice, and her beginning frown smoothed itself out.

 

The soft touch to her wrist distracted her. Moving, back and forth. Fingertips, stroking her skin, but barely brushing it at the same time. Left wrist. Not Abby, then. Never-ending, back, forth. Never tiring, until the weirdly intimate touch sent goose bumps up her arm. She knew that touch, of course.

 

"Tony?" she asked and grimaced at the way her voice gave.

 

The stroking stopped. He pulled his hand back, and she would have bet a lot of money that he hadn't even known he was touching her like that. Her hand, trying to make fun of the independent person she was, moved blindly to hold on to him and missed, of course. She felt strange, with her arm just hanging in the air for a second, but then she heard him breathe out and his hand came back. His strong and shaky fingers mingled with hers, pressing once to let her know everything would be fine even if it wouldn't.

 

"Heya, spoilsport," he said softly.

 

Abby climbed onto the bed and snuggled into her from the other side, and Ziva felt the tired tension radiating from her friend in the way she tried very hard to not just hug her senseless because she seemed afraid that this time something was seriously broken. She sighed and rubbed her forehead slowly with her free hand.

 

"How do you feel, Ziva? Any pain? Or weird itchy sensations?" Abby asked into the curve of her neck, and from the anxious way her voice sounded, Ziva could tell easily that the girl was worried out of her mind. "'Cause, you know, we could get you some pain killers in a flash. Or itch killers. Or whatever you need, just say the word, girlfriend!"

 

"I'm good, Abby," she lied and shook her head. It was the slightest movement possible, but the pain it set loose to crash through her temples made her grit her teeth. "Thank you."

 

Tony's hand held hers tighter for a second. He had never been fooled as easily as Abby, really. Except for the times when he wanted to be.

 

*** *** ***

 

The quick examination she received brought nothing new. She knew the exact moment the man - the doctor... what was his name again? - was shining the light into her eyes because it made her head split in searing pain that brought a slight nausea with it. But she didn't really _see_ any of it. Just a dark, cottony blankness remained, and it sparkled every now and then with remembered flash residue.

 

"Okay, Miss David," the doctor began, pronouncing her name the American way, and she corrected him absentmindedly and then asked him when she would be allowed to leave. "Uhm..." he replied, and that told her that there were looks being exchanged over her head, and she didn't want to know. She just wanted out of here.

 

"Ziva..." Tony's voice behind her made her tense, and her fingers grabbed the edge of the bed hard. She didn't want to listen to arguments. Not even to his.

 

"I _am_ allowed to leave, yes?" she interrupted him and turned her face back towards the doctor, ignoring her partner for the time being. "Because if I understood correctly, I am fine except for my eyes? And it makes no physical difference if I sit around here and wait for this condition to pass or at home, correct?" Her voice rose with each question until it had a slightly shrill edge to it, and she paused, breathing deeply and calming herself. There was no need to embarrass herself in front of a stranger.

 

Tony's hand touched the small of her back then, and she flinched and felt her pulse hammering in her throat suddenly. It made her take even greater care with her breathing and the wording of her next sentences.

 

"Tony. You remember my line of work before I came to NCIS. It will not come as a surprise to you that this isn't my first accident," she said eventually. "It is not a new concept to deal with." Her voice was steady, and it was good to find that she could still lie if the situation demanded it. Maybe because it wasn't a total lie, just a little creative stretching of facts. She had certainly been blinded by explosions before, but so far it had never lasted longer than a few minutes.

 

Abby's sound of outrage at the seemingly matter-of-fact statement made her less proud of the lie, though. And Tony's hand, pressing tightly against her back now, tore further at her composure.

 

"They can check up on you better here," he objected. His fingertips made her acutely aware of the hospital scrubs they had put on her for the endless row of tests. The image of his hand slipping inside just like that was so strong suddenly that her breath caught.

 

"Actually, she's right," the doctor said just then, and Ziva felt the combined weight of her friends' stares drift from her to him instantly. He chuckled softly at their reaction and continued, "She does seem to be physically fine, no concussion, just superficial burns on her face, and what her eyes need mostly now is time and rest."

 

His hands were busy while he talked, putting salve on her burns that made her wince and then fresh gauze pads on her eyes, wrapping bandages around her head to keep the pads fixed in place.

 

"_She_ can go home then," Ziva concluded mockingly, but her sarcasm didn't quite manage to cover the screaming relief in her voice.

 

Steps were entering her room just then. McGee in his squeechy new shoes. And Gibbs had to be close, if the cloud of coffee scent was any indication to go by. It made her stomach revolt, and she felt cold sweat break out all over her, but she was determined not to ruin the good doctor's sentence by showing fatigue now.

 

"She can go home, for now," the doctor echoed, and his voice was soft, compassionate. _Weak_. "_If_ you have someone who can stay with you for at least the next twenty-four hours, Miss David."

 

"Me," four voices said in unison, and she flinched again, shrinking back against the bed for a second. How could it be that being surrounded by her friends and partners made her feel... intimidated? She felt them share long glances over her head again, and she didn't want to think about what happened between them right now.

 

"I don't need a babysitter," she interrupted the silent exchange, wondering why her voice refused to come out as firm as she wanted it to.

 

Tony's hand, still uncomfortably low on her back, transported his shrug well.

 

"Ah, but this is the time to face the cold, hard facts, Probie - you do. And one of us gets to get you out of your panties and into something more comfortable. Take your pick." There was something else in his voice and in the way he touched her, but she couldn't figure out what exactly. His eyes would have told her easily, he could never keep anything from her when he looked at her. But that was not an option right now.

 

Her heart just kept hammering away in her throat, and yes, despite all the things Tony was, it was him she thought of first. Or maybe because of those exact same things. Because she trusted him with her body, and because the thought of being undressed by him was not an unpleasant one. But that was a thing she couldn't admit to very well, so she went with the decent choice when she raised her right arm like an obedient child and said, "Lead the way, girlfriend."

 

If her head hadn't been about to split she would have found it almost funny how McGee's squeechy shoes betrayed the fact that he was the first one who moved towards her.

 

*** *** ***

 

Darkness had never been a scary thing for Ziva. One of the first things her father had taught her had been that there were no monsters lurking in it, only monstrosities. Her training and experiences had always added to that belief, and both had made her more at ease with a thing that intimidated others so easily.

 

There had been a time in her life when the very first thing for her to do had been to learn how to navigate the place she had been sent to in the dark, because there was always the chance of someone taking out the lights or blindfolding her. Sometimes, she had turned the process of keeping her edge into a game with her respective partners. It had never been to their disadvantage. A few times, it had even been rewarding.

 

Coming back to her own apartment now and being effectively blindfolded, though, felt strange, and it took a few moments until the familiar smells and the feel of the couch fabric underneath her hand made the connections. She tried to remember the layout of her living room and wasn't quite as successful at that as she wanted to be.

 

Abby tried to sit her down or, better yet, get her straight into bed, but Ziva argued with her until her friend sighed dramatically, helped her out of her overused clothes and got her into the bathroom. While Abby held her hair back and helped her wash up and brush her teeth, she thought about Tony again, and the possibility of him being the one touching her naked back made her choke on her toothpaste for a second. Her head was a throbbing mass of pain after that.

 

Later, Abby made her tea and a bowl of soup, and even though she couldn't eat much, it did seem to be good for the soul, as they said.

 

It made her nervous to feel Abby's eyes on her, and even though her favorite Goth chatted away happily and provided her with the weirdest assortment of anecdotes, Ziva felt her concern radiating so loudly that it set her teeth on edge. She smiled at the appropriate moments, and she took slow sips from her tea, but it didn't take long until she considered faking sleep just to get away from Abby's anxiety and the way it made her skin crawl.

 

She was saved from that because right in the middle of the tale about the drummer of _Narcotica_, a knock on her door announced Ducky, carrying a big bag of the biscuits she loved because they were tasty and crumbled as soon as her tongue touched them. McGee was with him to pick up Abby and drive her home, and even though she didn't want to leave Ziva, she got argued down by the guys.

 

It made Ziva feel grateful, and that, in turn, slightly ashamed. But even after all these years, she wasn't any better around emotional women, and the feeling of Abby tearing up occasionally had made her so itchy and uncomfortable that it seemed downright peachy when Ducky said he would be the one to stay overnight. Ducky was chatty, too, but in a different way, not quite as intrusive, so she breathed a sigh of relief when McGee finally convinced Abby to go home and get some sleep.

 

She felt less relieved when Ducky turned to her and touched her cheek as soon as they were alone, then put a finger under her chin and lifted her face into the light so he could scrutinize her. And because Ducky was more attentive and knew her better than the hospital doctor, she knew that he felt her trembling and the cold sweat on her face. He made a soft scolding sound. Then he told her that he would wake her every hour to check on her reflexes and memory.

 

She tried to protest, tried to insist that she was fine, but he just put a biscuit into her mouth and handed her the mug he had refilled with her favorite tea, and that was it.

 

He was more than punctual with the waking, but it turned out that she didn't mind all that much. One hour was the time that usually the bad things started to happen in her head whenever she wasn't feeling well.

 

*** *** ***


	3. Day Three

**Ziva's Wednesday**

 

Her stomach turned when she woke, and it was pure luck that the ever watchful Ducky noticed and got her to the bathroom just in time. He held her hair back while she threw up, and she felt him stroke her back and mumble calming nonsense, and for the fraction of a second she wanted that to be Tony's hand again.

 

She groaned at the thought and wiped her mouth. Things were bad indeed when she longed for Tony to watch her heave.

 

Ducky left her for a moment and came back with a cool, wet cloth. She leaned back, stomach emptied, but not quite settled yet, and he wiped her face carefully.

 

"Let's get you to the hospital, my dear."

 

She briefly thought about disagreeing. Then she decided it was too much of an effort.

 

*** *** ***

 

They poked and prodded and CAT scanned her for hours until she was ready to scream at the next nurse who approached her with a false nicety on his or her lips.

 

Eventually, they all agreed that she only had a minor concussion, and since she hadn't shown any further symptoms of nausea or memory loss, it was deemed moderately safe for her to go home again, as long as someone was with her all the time. One more night of supervised sleep and checked reflexes was ordered, and they all congratulated Ducky for being so careful in the first place. It made him launch into an anecdote about a young soldier he had once met, who had been hit in the head by a dead swan, and at that point a thoroughly unnerved Ziva pulled herself to her feet, felt around for her coat and tried to leave on her own.

 

Of course, he had caught up with her after not even two steps and gently hooked his arm under hers. "Here, let me help you, my dear."

 

Her smile was grim and entirely fake.

 

She held her breath and gritted her teeth until finally, finally all papers where signed and they were out of the hospital and she breathed some real air and felt the sun warm on her face. Her eyes itched under the bandages, and she fought the urge to rub them. Apparently, she was healing, but that had never been something Ziva was good at. She had always fought this stage of the process with tooth and claw.

 

This time, though, all the exercise and iron will in the world wouldn't help to speed up the time frame - quite the opposite, rather, as she had been instructed to give her eyes all the rest they needed because everything else could lead to permanent damage. At least that was what they had told her earlier.

 

"Now, Ziva, should I take you out for a belated breakfast or do you think it would be a total waste on your poor stomach?"

 

She smiled at the chipper sound of his voice and pressed his arm once in a quick reassurance and thanks. "Breakfast would be lovely, Ducky."

 

*** *** ***

 

Ducky took her to a place that had the most delicious waffles, and they were astonishingly easy on her stomach. The only thing she didn't like was the fact that eating without sight (at least if one was going for a civilized manner) was far less easy than navigating her apartment, and she felt her jaw clench when Ducky had to reach over and cut the waffles up for her. She didn't like feeling ineffective.

 

Still, the waffles were good, and she had just ordered her second round when Abby called to ask in a slightly hysterical voice where they had run off to. It made Ziva deliriously thankful that Ducky decided to skip any mention of the trip to the hospital and told Abby that they had merely gone out for breakfast.

 

She reached for his hand when he ended the call and thanked him, and she could almost feel the radiant smile that brought to his face. "You're quite welcome, Ziva," he said and patted her hand. "I think we both know Abby long enough to know it's sometimes best not to have her worry too much."

 

She nodded and took another bite of her waffle. Then she turned her head so she could feel the sun playing across her skin.

 

*** *** ***

 

Abby met them at the waffle house and joined them for a chocolate cupcake that smelled just as delicious as the waffles had, and for just a tiny moment, Ziva felt like there was nothing wrong in the world.

 

Then she felt the weight of a questioning gaze on her again, and she sighed. She wasn't quite ready yet to go back to being pampered.

 

"Abby? Can we stay outside for a while?" she asked. Even while she spoke, she felt her friend's hesitation, and so she continued without giving Abby the opportunity to slip in a protest. "I mean, it's such a beautiful day, and I feel like I haven't had any fresh air in _years_."

 

Still no answer, and so Ziva dropped her voice to the seductive level and tried the one thing that usually made Abby fold like a three-year-old in a candy store. "We could go to the park for people mocking...?"

 

"Ooh." Abby's gaze on her still held too much weight, but at least there was her mock frown now, which Ziva knew because it was usually accompanied by a certain playful tone to her voice. "You drive a mean bargain, Agent David!"

 

"I know," she laughed and hunted around on her plate for the last pieces of her waffle.

 

*** *** ***

 

They spent a few hours in the park, with their usual _I bet this one_ game in a slightly modified version because Ziva, of course, wasn't able to see the target this time. So Abby had to do detailed descriptions for her, and every now and then Ziva interrupted her and wanted her to look for something rather specific, like the bulge of a wallet in certain places, or the way his or her shoes looked, or if they bit their nails. Sometimes that would make Abby whistle through her teeth, and she acknowledged after a while that yes, Ziva had learned indeed how to really look at people and how to judge them correctly. That statement made Ziva bite her lip, and her headache returned soon after that.

 

She was dead tired when they finally returned to her apartment, and maybe that was the reason she didn't mind the physical contact all that much when Abby hooked her arm around Ziva's waist and led her up the stairs.

 

"What now, Ziva? Bed? Food?" Abby asked when they had reached the apartment. Her voice took on a devious quality while she considered more options. "Food in bed?"

 

Ziva laughed and slipped out of her shoes, one hand firmly set against the doorframe to balance herself. "Shower, more likely."

 

"Hm." She knew the exact way in which Abby cocked her head at that because she had seen it a hundred times. "For some reason I feel the need to channel Tony here and insert a naughty remark about you, me and a shower." And maybe she would never get to see that head tilt again.

 

Breathing was a painful thing through a throat that wanted to constrict. Her pulse, throbbing in her temples, tried to remind her that she was still alive and that she would be well soon enough. Her wildly pounding heart, in return, screamed at her to run and never turn back to this madness.

 

But even that was no longer an option since she could no longer find the way on her own.

 

So she raised a hand, rubbed her temple to ease the throbbing behind it and faked a moderately amused smile, and Abby giggled at her side and proceeded to get Ziva out of her shirt and pants. Which was accompanied by a lot more Tony channeling, naturally.

 

*** *** ***

 

Ziva held her face into the warm spray of the shower and let her body soak in the sensation of cleansing heat. She had desperately needed that - her _hair_ had desperately needed that - and even though Abby had argued about the bandages, she had helped her to get them off after Ziva had promised not to open her eyes while she was in the shower. It was one of the easier promises, actually, because she had no intention of putting her eyes to more stress than was necessary and maybe influencing the healing process negatively.

 

She breathed out slowly, pressing her palms against the wall of the shower stall. Influence the healing process negatively. That sounded better than _screw it up_, she thought, because that would have just been her channeling Tony. She turned the temperature up until the water was just this side of too hot to bear and let it rain down on her back some more.

 

It felt just like it always had, not better, not more intense. Well, maybe a tiny bit better, but that might have been because her hair had been a sweaty mess and her body sticky from exhaustion before. Weren't your other senses supposed to enhance when one left you, to make up for the failure?

 

She reached for the shower gel and accidentally touched her razor beside it. It made her hesitate for a second. Then she checked the noticeable stubble in her armpits and grimaced. She considered calling Abby, briefly, but asking her to help with that... it would have been just too weird. And embarrassing on a whole new level.

 

"I will not let this keep me from personal hygiene," she told her razor, and it wisely chose not to comment on that. She would have told it to shut up anyway because she had grown up with this body, after all. She knew every nook and cranny of it. Another phrase she had learned from Tony.

 

*** *** ***

 

She heard voices arguing softly in her living room while she was wrapping her wet hair into a thick towel. The newcomer's voice was easy to identify, and that made Ziva strain her ears while she rubbed her favorite olive-scented lotion into her skin.

 

She didn't get the whole discussion, but it seemed as if Tony wanted to convince Abby to go home and get some rest and, when she refused at first, he pointed out the dark rings under her eyes that had nothing to do with her makeup.

 

Ziva wiped some residue moisture off her cheeks and sighed when she heard the sound of her apartment door. She shouldn't feel this glad that Abby was gone, it was ungrateful, really. And yet, she couldn't help the relief that flooded her when she thought about a night not spent with anxious eyes trained on her constantly.

 

So, it would be Tony instead. The sink was cool under her hands while she remembered that she had not taken any fresh clothes into the bathroom with her, and the thought of meeting him, of all people, in only her bathrobe was slightly unsettling. She wasn't sure why, though. He had seen her in far less clothing before, that much was sure.

 

Her hands gripped the edge of the sink tighter. She was stalling the inevitable. With a sigh, she grabbed her robe and slipped inside, pulling the belt tight around her waist.

 

*** *** ***

 

"Hey." His voice was low, incredibly soft and strangely careful, and while Ziva pulled the bathroom door shut behind her, she realized that he may have been just as nervous.

 

"Tony," she returned the greeting, tilting her head towards him, and she could feel his eyes travel all over her in appreciation. She knew the dark green robe covered her body well enough, but yes, there was something unnervingly intimate about being dressed that way around him.

 

Then the cadence of his breathing changed for a heartbeat or two, and she could imagine what he had discovered - the cuts on her legs, as a result of her try at shaving gone slightly wrong.

 

"What's with the self-mutilation?" he asked, sure enough, and she sighed.

 

"Apparently, I do not know my own body as well as I had thought," she replied and started rubbing her hair dry while she went to sit down beside him.

 

"Hang on, you'll get blood all over your couch."

 

His hand touched her arm and froze her in place, and she waited until he returned with a wet tissue that he used to dab at the shallow razor cuts. They had already stopped bleeding, but apparently they had left traces on her legs. She took the towel off her hair and rubbed her curls absentmindedly, trying to ignore the fact that Tony had gone down on one knee right in front of her.

 

The tissue was cool against her skin, but his hand, touching the outer side of her knee to steady her... She bit her lip, concentrating on her hair. Tried not to think about fingertips sliding further up her thigh and touching her quite differently.

 

"There," he said and shifted slightly, and she knew that he was looking up at her now, taking her in, and Ziva wondered briefly if she had tied her robe correctly. Wondered if he would mind if she hadn't. Wondered if _she_ would mind.

 

He didn't say anything else, and she longed to look at him, to see the look playing across his oh so open face, because she had no idea what was going on in his head right now. His fingertips, tantalizingly still against her knee, told her nothing. She would have to develop her Tony-reading skills all over again if he kept that up.

 

Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Next time, you let one of us help with that," he said.

 

Ziva laughed, and the sound came out low and playful and not at all how she had planned it. "You won't get anywhere near the places I shave."

 

She could almost feel his sly grin then in a very physical way, and yes, she could most certainly feel the way his eyes traveled up her body once more. Could feel the speculative thoughts running loose in his head while he kept kneeling in front of her. Kept touching her knee. Kept looking her up and down. Her breathing picked up speed, just a notch, but it was enough to still the movement of her hands in her hair. His fingers did move then, just once. Just a tiny tap of them against her heated skin, and she jumped at the touch and felt her cheeks burst into flames.

 

And that was the moment her stomach chose to grumble at her, because Tony had come bearing gifts of food, and the smell reminded her how long ago the waffles had been. "Pizza?" she asked. Despite the hunger, there was a hint of disappointment because she had felt in the mood for something more substantial... and something more fancy, if she'd been pressed for honesty.

 

She felt his shrug just before he finally let go of her leg and got up on his feet again. "You know how to eat that without looking."

 

Her stomach fluttered. For some reason, pizza did not sound that bad after all.

 

*** *** ***

 

Halfway through her second slice, he reached over and tucked her hair back behind her ear, and she forgot to take the bite she had been going for.

 

"Thought you weren't supposed to take the bandages off," he said.

 

"I will put them back on as soon as my hair is dry and brushed," she laughed, trying to sound obedient and failing miserably. "You have noticed that I am a good girl and keep my eyes closed, yes?"

 

"Oh yeah, I noticed. Makes lounging around in my underwear that much easier."

 

"If I find just one of your body hairs on my couch later, you will suffer dearly," she quipped and munched on her pizza.

 

The distinct feel of his grin was deafening.

 

*** *** ***

 

She let him lay out a t-shirt and sweatpants for her after describing the ones she wanted. She did headslap him when he sounded so distracted all of a sudden that she just knew he had turned in fascination to her underwear. He winced theatrically, and she laughed and caressed the back of his head briefly, then sent him to check her emails while she changed.

 

"Don't know your password." His voice sounded uncomfortable, but there wasn't anything in her correspondence that should make him - or her - feel that way. One day she should tell him that there hadn't been anything remotely private going on in her email for a while. Maybe. If he kept his mockery to a decent level.

 

"Right," she said, holding out her hand to him. After a second's hesitation, he took it and led her back into the living room, where he powered up her laptop.

 

She gave up after the second try and told him the password through clenched teeth. She wasn't used to typing blind.

 

*** *** ***

 

When she came back from putting on sweats and t-shirt, he told her about the few emails that actually were interesting, and she nodded and made the appropriate sounds and forgot most of what he said while he was still talking. And then he fell silent for a moment, and her skin began to crawl with anticipation.

 

"What?" she asked, and the way he took a breath made it clear he wasn't sure how she would take the next one.

 

"Eli asks how you're doing," he finally said.

 

This would have been the moment where she would have had to close her eyes, if they hadn't been tightly shut already. She rubbed her arms and felt her numb skin tighten under her hands.

 

"I did not need to know that," she said and turned, giving Tony her back while she tried to get her act together. Because if she let him look at her face right now, he would see an awful lot of things she was not ready to share yet.

 

"Good thing I told him to fuck off then," he said after a while. His voice sounded so carefully neutral that it was hard to recognize Tony in it.

 

Her heart was doing strange things to her, beating harshly and stumbling over its own pace at the same time. Trust Tony to do the one thing for her that she couldn't do on her own.

 

Her throat felt odd, too. Constricted. "If there is an answer from him, I do not want to hear about it," she said eventually.

 

"Yes, you do."

 

And just like that, his voice was so close it made her jump, and he touched her arm in a way that said he wanted to pull her up against him but didn't dare. She moved her own hand to tap her fingertips against his on her arm, grounding herself, and a bit of the hesitation left his touch. His presence was warm and solid at her back, and it was something else that was too intimate to put in words right now. For the fraction of a moment she wasn't sure if she really wanted him any closer than that. And when that moment had passed, she wasn't sure if she could help it.

 

"How often does he write?" he asked, and she pressed her eyes shut so hard it came close to hurting.

 

"Once or twice a month," she finally admitted.

 

"And you haven't read any of them."

 

"No." Her own voice sounded so strange. She wondered if her answer had even been loud enough for him to understand. He showed no reaction, merely kept stroking her arm softly.

 

Eventually, he sighed, giving her arm a quick squeeze of reassurance. "C'mon. Let's brush your hair and then get you into bed."

 

That made her relax, finally, and she couldn't help the laugh she felt bubbling over her lips. "You've dreamed about saying that for a long, long time, yes?"

 

She tried to wrap herself into distanced amusement, but her body betrayed her and so she leaned back against him out of reflex. And the way he moved into the touch so easily, how he just put his chin to her shoulder as if they did that every night, made her feel strangely content.

 

"Oh yes," he said, and she felt his smile against her own cheek. "I've wanted to brush your hair from the day we met."

 

*** *** ***

 

For some reason, she expected him to be unskilled and impatient in this, and it wasn't fair to him, really, but she kept waiting for it to sting or feel unnerving or be uncomfortable. It turned out to be none of these things when he sat her down backwards on one of the kitchen chairs so she could put her arms up on the backrest and pulled up another behind her.

 

He started out slowly and began at the tips of her unruly curls and smoothed out the knots gently. Then he worked his way up higher incrementally and very carefully instead of just brushing down from the top like so many did. He was more patient with her tangled strands than her image of Tony would have led her to expect, and she was glad that she had a very good reason to keep her eyes tightly shut.

 

His fingers and sometimes the back of his hand moved against her neck every now and then while he worked through her hair. The first few times it happened, she felt her skin tighten because she wasn't used to him touching her at not-buddy places... and because she hadn't been touched like that in a while.

 

Then, from one of these accidental touches to the next, her anxiety turned into anticipation, and she leaned back into his touch and almost wanted him to drop the brush and just keep touching her neck and... Ziva shuddered, biting her lip.

 

He worked on her hair quietly, and his breathing grew calm and relaxed while he was slowly untangling her curls until he had finally reached her roots and could really brush her hair from the top in long, even strokes. It almost made her feel as if this was a meditative exercise to him. And it felt like something else.

 

"This isn't the first time you did this," she said hesitantly. There was a question in there that made his rhythm falter for the length of a heartbeat, but she left the decision of acknowledging it to him.

 

"My mom had awesome hair," he replied after a while and ran the brush through her curls.

 

*** *** ***

 

His hands, so strong and sure in all other things, dabbed the salve onto her cheek almost tentatively, and he was so close to her during it that his presence felt like a soft pressure against her skin. His scent was in her nose, too - not the overwhelming cologne one he sometimes sported, but just the warm, spicy Tony scent that was always underneath, always around her these days. She wasn't sure when she had started to notice that scent. Wasn't sure it was a good idea to notice it at all.

 

"There," he said, still too close, and she swallowed hard. His breath caressed her cheek, and for a second she felt him tilt his head and lean into her. And then he pulled back again, like one of them always did, to get the gauze pads and the bandages.

 

When he led her to her bed eventually, she gave in to the temptation of resting her forehead against his chest briefly. And just when he was about to open his mouth to say something, she pulled herself together and thanked him and slid under the sheets. There was no other way, after all.

 

It surprised her slightly that he was just as punctual as Ducky when it came to waking her.

 

*** *** ***


	4. Day Four

**Tony's Thursday**

 

 

He couldn't remember if his eyes had ever felt more tired than this morning. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but he knew that he wouldn't have slept properly even without the tedious job of waking Ziva regularly and asking her questions to see if her head worked alright. Just like he had barely slept the night before, when she hadn't even been around, but he had still been stuck with spending too much energy on worrying.

 

He shifted in the armchair he had pulled up beside her bed, and she moved in her sleep and turned to her side. He watched her face, all relaxed, her mouth twitching while she dreamed. He'd been glad on more than one occasion that she didn't snore like a drunken sailor anymore since that Iranian chick had tried to set her up back then and broken her nose. Okay, so he wasn't exactly happy that she'd gotten her nose broken, but still. Her pretty mouth mumbled something that sounded like a nasty curse, and he couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face. So yeah, she still wasn't a quiet sleeper. There were worse things in life.

 

His cell phone went off, and he jumped, feeling strangely guilty. Maybe whoever it was had a pretty good idea that he had just seriously pondered being unreachable.

 

McGee, telling him they had another lead. Telling him that same lead meant Palmer couldn't come over yet to take his turn in the Ziva watch. Telling him she'd have to do on her own for a bit. With each of his statements Tony felt his jaw clench more, and when he finally replied that he'd be right over, his voice did not sound too friendly.

 

She was awake when he turned back to the bed, and he fought the urge to just climb into bed with her and hold her until all was right again in the world. That would have been way more than just inappropriate.

 

"Trouble?" she asked and yawned, stretching her arms.

 

"Only if I don't come in soon," he sighed. He went down to one knee beside the bed and rested his arms on the edge of it, touching her wrist gently. "More on the Daften leads. Whole team is playing busy bees right now, so I can't send one of them over to look after you."

 

"I think I will be alright for a few hours," she interrupted him, a slight smile curving her lips. Strangely, that didn't make him feel any less guilty for leaving her alone now.

 

"Listen, I think Palmer will still be the first one to get off duty, so as soon as..."

 

"Tony." Her voice was firm as she turned her palm up so she could grasp his hand in hers. "I have lived in this apartment for a few months now. I know this place and its dimensions. I will be alright, for a few hours, even while I can't see."

 

He was not as convinced as Ziva was, but she sounded so sure that he gave in eventually. "Okay. Anything I can do before I head out?"

 

"Just put out a pair of pants and a top for me, that will do. The rest I can manage."

 

He couldn't help himself. He had to grin and react to that. It was a tradition they had. "Panties, too?"

 

She snorted, grabbed a pillow and hit his head with it. She was amazingly accurate for a blind gal. "No. Those, I can find on my own. Now skadoodle."

 

"Skedaddle."

 

"Whatever," she huffed and snuggled back into the sheets.

 

*** *** ***

 

It took barely three hours into the work day until he saw her caller ID on his cell, and his stomach plummeted. Dammit, not while he was crouching through undergrowth, trying desperately not to get mcgeed by poison ivy.

 

Her voice was in his ear before he could even say hi, strangely flat and barely controlled at the same time. Telling him that she needed him to come. He sat back on his haunches, frowned at the urgent tone of her voice and tried to reassure himself that she was good. Because she was Ziva, after all. His eyes searched for Gibbs, who was busy talking to some guy wearing a ranger uniform.

 

"Ziva, this is really bad timing..." he started quietly. And then she made a sound low in her throat that he had never heard from her before. It was quenched as fast as it had left her lips, but Tony had caught it, after all, and despite the spring sun hammering down onto his back, he felt cold.

 

"Tony, I... please. I... cut myself, and I know that I'm bleeding, but obviously I can't see how bad it really is, and..."

 

He didn't let her finish the sentence, just told her that he'd be there in fifteen minutes. "And call an ambulance," he ordered her while he jumped to his feet and ran into the general direction of his car. Then he stopped, looking for Gibbs again. Dammit, he'd have to tell the boss first.

 

Ziva had the nerve to start arguing with him about the ambulance, about how she couldn't go back to the hospital again, and he finally got angry and yelled at her. "Do it or I will. Be right there." _Don't you dare argue with me when you're hurt. Don't you dare._

 

He snapped his phone shut and turned, staring right into Gibbs' stony face. "Boss, she's-"

 

And Gibbs, who seemed to have heard the ambulance bit, just jerked his head to the side wordlessly, allowing - no, ordering him to skedaddle.

 

*** *** ***

 

He had gone through various scenarios in his head while he had used every fucked-up driving stunt he had ever seen her pull to get to her apartment faster, but he still wasn't prepared for the shock of seeing her on her couch, a thick towel in her lap that was blood-soaked while a familiar guy in scrubs was kneeling in front of her.

 

No, correction. The blood wasn't the shock. It was the look on her face when she turned her head towards the sound of the door slamming. The expression just before she got her act together and put her blank mask back on while she said his name. The fact that she had not called an ambulance after all, like he had told her to, but rather someone she... trusted? No. Someone she had under control.

 

He watched the browns curls on the top of Palmer's head while he was busy with stitching Ziva up quietly. Tony saw the way the young man's jaw clenched, and that told him it wasn't pretty. And because it felt like he owed it to her, he forced himself to take a closer look. Three stitches across the fleshy mound of her left hand, and she didn't flinch once, even though he was pretty sure she felt every single one.

 

Eventually, Palmer band-aided her up, then nodded, satisfied with his work. He left her something for the worst of the pain, instructed her on the dosage and turned to leave. Jimmy dared to give Tony a glare on his way out that said he clearly wanted to comment on the situation, but then he got a good look at Tony's face.

 

Tony wasn't sure what it was that made Palmer back off eventually. Maybe it was his barely controlled anger, maybe the guilt cramping his stomach for leaving her alone in the first place. Whatever Palmer saw, it made him hesitate, and then he just left and didn't say anything after all. Which was probably a good thing because Tony wasn't sure he could have listened to it without punching him in the face.

 

He kept staring at Ziva, who kept, in turn, sitting stiffly on her couch, her back very straight while she cradled her injured hand in her lap. There was blood on the couch and big splotches on her fuzzy carpet, too. The couch table was knocked over, and the vase and the bowl that had been on it were reduced to a pile of shards and splinters. It almost looked as if she'd been fighting with a burglar.

 

"What happened here?" he asked when she made no move to start explaining, and his voice sounded strangely scratchy in his own ears.

 

She flinched, and her back stiffened even more. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn that she looked... ashamed?

 

"_Ziva_. What happened?"

 

She jumped at his harsh tone, and her expression changed into one of extreme discomfort. The one she usually wore when she was forced to talk about emotional stuff. "I threw... a fit," she admitted eventually, and her carefully controlled tone of voice made him want to smack his fist down hard beside her.

 

"A _fit?_" She winced at the way his voice rose, and he took a deep breath, trying not to get angry at her. Angrier. Whatever.

 

And while he still tried to get his rage all bottled up again, he suddenly remembered that she had hit her head not too long ago, and the word took on another meaning that left him feeling cold again. "A fit like a seizure?"

 

"No. I just got mad." Her hands twitched nervously in her lap while she hunted for the right words to continue. "It would appear that I do not know my own apartment as well as I thought I did, too."

 

"And then, what? You tore the place apart to find a map?!"

 

She pressed her lips tightly shut, and that made him unclench his fists very carefully. She did not need his anger right now. She had more than enough on her own.

 

He went over to the couch and walked around it so he could really look at her. Green glass crunched under his shoes as he squatted down in front of her and touched her knee softly. He felt her shudder as he reached for the towel to take it out of her lap. Her hand clung to it, and he moved his fingers to her wrist, tapping it gently until he felt her relax her grip just enough.

 

"What happened?" he repeated softly, setting away the towel and taking her good hand into his.

 

"It was silly, really," she sighed, but the way her lips had tensed just before her words told him it was anything but. Not if she went into a rage and threw around stuff over it. Not if she stopped caring long enough to hurt herself so bad she needed stitches. "I just... I went to get a glass of water. I was careless and knocked two glasses out of the cupboard, and it was..."

 

She hesitated, and he tapped against the pulse in her wrist again. "Too much?" he offered when she didn't continue.

 

And she nodded, still so tense that his neck hurt just from looking at her. It made him feel so helpless all of a sudden.

 

He wanted to glance at her like he could before and let that be enough to tell her everything would be just fine and dandy. But he couldn't. The one thing that had always worked perfectly between them, their best form of communication, that thing was broken and he had no idea how to fix it.

 

He could no longer just nod at her and she'd get it and smile at him or snark at him or whatever was the current appropriate response. They would have to develop a whole new form of communication. Touch, maybe. Or they could learn to actually talk to each other. _Yeah, that will go over reeaally well._ God, he would miss the eye sex they'd had across their desks.

 

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside her, and when she didn't flinch this time, he put his arm around her. She resisted at first, trying to fight the embrace, but he kept dragging her over until she was halfway across his lap and leaning against his chest. He felt the shudder that ran through her and softened up her stiffness a bit, and so he held her with one hand resting on her thigh, the other reaching up to stroke her back, slowly, like one would do with an upset child. It didn't take all that long until he felt her relax in his arms.

 

Touch would do, for a start.

 

*** *** ***

 

She cried, eventually, and he had no idea what to do then because he had never seen her like that before. And because he was just as bad around crying women as she was. So he just kept holding her, kept stroking her back, and it seemed to be good enough.

 

He had no idea how many hours they sat like that, just that it had gotten dark when he picked her up carefully and carried her to her bedroom because she only wore socks and there was still glass all over her floor. She didn't say a word while he went to the bathroom and came back with a wet washcloth to get the last of the blood off her hands. She only winced when he touched her injured palm accidentally.

 

He saw her biting her lower lip when he dragged her to her feet and unbuttoned her pants, but she didn't say anything, just put her hand to his shoulder somewhat hesitantly to balance herself while he pulled her cargo pants down and got her feet untangled. He wasn't sure what she expected right then, but judging from her slight surprise when he just put her into bed and tucked her in, it had not been quite that.

 

"Sleep," he said and pushed her hair out of her face carefully. Tried not to give in and simply lean down for a kiss, which seemed so easy and so very tempting. Not to mention wrong on so many levels while she was unstable like that.

 

She grabbed his hand when he moved back, holding it so tightly for a second that he wondered what was about to happen now. Then she bit her lip again and relaxed her grip. "The... table..." she murmured, and he sighed.

 

"I'll take care of that." _I'll pick up the pieces._

 

*** *** ***


	5. Day Five

**Ziva's Friday**

 

 

When the doctor's hands took off the gauze pads, she expected more to happen. Instead, the only things she saw were shadows. Some were slightly brighter, others were still just as jet black as her whole night had been. The pen light shining into her eyes still gave her a headache. And it still did nothing more.

 

She blinked. Tried to focus her eyes. Nothing changed.

 

She was still blind.

 

The simple thought made a wild, unhealthy panic rise in her throat. Her hand reached for Tony instinctively, grabbing air blindly, and yes, he had her back, of course, he caught her hand and his strong fingers held hers and pressed them just as hard.

 

In theory, she learned later, she was alright. Her eyes had healed perfectly. Her brain showed no damage. There was no nerve damage, no swelling. Technically, she was as right as rain. Except that she still couldn't see a thing.

 

She noticed when the doctor took Tony away after he had scratched his head for a while and murmured with him, but she was too tired to try and eavesdrop. She knew Tony would tell her later what he had said anyway. Right now, she was more in the mood to go home, go back to bed and bury her head in her pillows for, oh, about twenty years.

 

*** *** ***

 

"Get that thing out of my face, DiNozzo."

 

He sighed in an overly dramatic way. "I'll have you know that most women find that _thing_ rather intriguing," he teased her, and Ziva heard the elderly woman behind her snort into her coffee in prudish shock.

 

"He's talking about the _flower_," she clarified over her shoulder, then frowned at him. "You are, right?"

 

His amusement was palpable enough to invade her privacy ten different ways since Tuesday. "I am. So we narrowed it down to flower. Now tell me which one."

 

She groaned and rolled her eyes. And yet, when he held the blossom to her nose again, she couldn't help but take a sniff because she had always fallen for his games.

 

"Magnolia," she said, feeling strange when the sound that came from Tony in return was so pleased. "Isn't it a little late for them?"

 

She knew he was doing this just to distract her, to keep her from thinking too hard. And yet, despite her knowing that, she could feel how his plan actually began to work and how he got her sidetracked enough to relax.

 

"Yeah, they had a late start this year," he said, and she felt him tuck the flower behind her ear. She knew it looked probably good in her dark curls, and that was such a silly girlish thought that she suppressed the smile that wanted to creep onto her face.

 

She felt Tony's presence so clearly beside her on the bench that she moved just a tiny bit until her shoulder touched his. Just a little something to keep her grounded in a sea of darkness.

 

The natural light didn't hurt her eyes as much, and she enjoyed sitting in the park with Tony and turning her face into the spring sun. What was that saying? Stopping to take time and smell the roses? That was something she never had been able to afford before.

 

"So what did the good doctor whisper to you about?" she asked, and just like that, he forgot his own distraction and his shoulder tensed against hers. She sighed. "Tony. Please."

 

"Mostly what he told you, too, Zi. That your eyes are fine, that neither retina nor nerves seem damaged, that your brain is fine, little does he know, and that there is no apparent physical reason you can't see."

 

"Well, that is big news. And not very helpful."

 

His shrug rubbed against her shoulder softly. "He said that sometimes this sort of thing happens." He hesitated, and she put her hand over his and gave a quick squeeze, and she felt the movement when he turned his head to look at her. "He said it mostly happens when people have been through a lot. Makes them kinda shut down, you know."

 

She blinked. "You mean he thinks I don't _want_ to see?"

 

Another shrug. "I'm no doctor, Ziva, but sometimes our body does the strangest things when there's stuff we can't cope with."

 

*** *** ***

 

She dreamed badly that night, for the first time in a long while. And it was worse than anything she had experienced in an even longer time.

 

She couldn't get away from it. She jerked awake hard and found herself sitting upright in bed again, but this time, darkness was not her friend and there was no way of escaping it, of keeping the images invading her mind at bay. This time, she could open her eyes as far as she wanted, it still left her blind to the outside, and so, naturally, all she had left to turn to was the inside.

 

It took a long time until her breathing returned to something resembling normal and her heart was no longer threatening to burst out of her chest. Still, she kept blinking. She felt herself open her eyes so far it hurt, but it didn't seem to stop the moisture (she refused to call it tears) from rising in them. Eventually, she felt enough in control to make a trip to the bathroom without stopping to cower in a corner.

 

She took her time. Wiped her face with a wet washcloth until she felt... not normal, but back to a functioning level.

 

It lasted until she began to grope her way back to the bedroom and she heard the soft, sleepy sound from the direction of her couch. It made her heart hammer away in her throat like something dangerous had jumped her. Her hands clenched into fists and she took shallow breaths until she remembered that it was Tony. Just Tony, who had chosen to spend yet another night on her couch. _'Just in case,'_ he had said.

 

And then she remembered what the dream had been about.

 

.

 

 

**Tony's Friday night**

 

 

His sleep grew lighter when he felt her presence so close, but it was the little gasping sound that made him jerk awake like someone had snapped fingers in his face. He saw Ziva standing beside the couch, breathing harshly, and with her hair a dark, unruly halo and the straps of her top creeping down her shoulders, it left her looking like a wild dream creature. The most interesting thing he had ever had the pleasure of meeting at this time of night.

 

But then he saw how her shoulders shook, and his mood switched from fascinated to concerned at the next snap of invisible fingers.

 

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, and she trembled again, even more violently this time. No answer. "Zi? What's wrong?"

 

He reached out for her, and when his hand brushed hers, she jumped in sudden shock. And then she grabbed his fingers so hard it hurt.

 

"I couldn't remember your face," she pressed out.

 

"What?"

 

"I dreamed, and I was in that cell again, only this time I couldn't remember your face, so I had nothing to..." She broke off abruptly and pressed her mouth shut hard to keep the rest of the words in, but it was too late, he'd gotten the gist of it already. _Christ._

 

Another shudder ran through her, and he tugged at her hand and pulled her over to the couch while he turned to his side so she had the room to sit down beside him. When she did, he took her hand and laid it to his cheek.

 

She shuddered so hard at that contact that it felt like a fever running high in her body, and he heard the shocked little gasp that escaped her. But he held on to her hand, kept it pressed to his face.

 

And eventually, her thumb started moving across his cheekbone. Just a tiny bit, back and forth, but enough to let him know that she was coming back out of her own head.

 

He let go of her hand then and leaned into her to give her better access, and that made her suck on her lower lip, deeply lost in thought all of a sudden. Tony, in turn, found his eyes fixed on her mouth now, utterly distracted for a moment.

 

She began to really move her fingers eventually. Ran her fingertips over his mouth slowly to take in its form. The curve of his lips, the corners of his mouth. Her fingers moved on to touch his cheek, his nose, gently at first, but with quickly growing curiosity. He closed his eyes when she brushed his eyelids, his eyebrows, reached up further to take in the stubborn forehead, then led her hands back down to the jaw that could clench so easily when he was mad and relax just as quickly when he turned her way for a smile. She winced when he tilted his head to press his cheek against her palm, and he mouthed a _sorry_ at her for forgetting the cut.

 

Her breath caressed his face when she leaned closer to him until her forehead almost touched his. His pulse was beating harshly in his throat by then, and he was sure that she felt that, too. And yet, she kept going, kept stroking his face and his neck in a way that made it impossible for him to stop her exploration. She took all the time in the world to get to know him once more, and he shuddered when he heard her make a weird little noise deep in her throat that could have almost been a moan.

 

He opened his eyes to look at her, and it was a delicious shock to find her mouth so close, her lips so enticingly parted. And then she read his mind and leaned into him. Closed the distance and kissed him, just like that.

 

He gasped at the sudden feeling of her mouth warm on his lips. "Ziva," he murmured, and then he simply forgot what he had wanted to say because she slipped her tongue into his mouth and pressed against him and ran her hands down his chest. It made him hungry, just like that, snap of her fingers again, and his hand came up around her back, digging into her hair.

 

She fell into the embrace easily, and her fragile weight on his chest was so delicious that he groaned into her mouth when her kiss turned urgent... needy. And that was what made him hesitate. _Snap._

 

Ziva David was not desperate. Not the Ziva he knew, anyway.

 

She must have felt him draw back, but she didn't stop in turn, just leaned closer again and licked his mouth, tried to urge him on, and that was when he put his hands to her shoulders and pushed her back just enough to look at her face.

 

"Ziva," he said, and she tried to lean into him once more, but he shook his head. "Just what are you trying to prove here?"

 

She froze and pressed her mouth shut at that question, then sat up very straight, and he saw her lower lip tremble for just a second. He pushed himself up beside her. "Zi. What's going on?" he murmured, and because it was a hard habit to get rid of, he found himself reaching for her to push her hair out of her face.

 

She stiffened even more and tried to draw back, but he just slipped his fingers around the back of her neck and held her at his side easily.

 

"It would seem that I had a lapse in judgment," she finally replied, her voice brittle and distant. There was some sort of raw pain there, too, and it had nothing to do with him breaking the kiss. "You do not want this."

 

She waited for his answer, but from the way her body sat rigid and unmoving at his side, she seemed to have made up her mind already about what to expect from his reply.

 

Except that she was wrong, of course.

 

His fingers moved against the back of her neck softly, and she tried to pull back again at the intimate touch, so he just tightened his hold on her.

 

"I can tell you at least a dozen different reasons why I want this, badly," he pressed out through gritted teeth. When she took in a deep breath at that, he forced his jaw to relax and his mind to let go of the anger. And he sighed. "But as long as you don't know your own reasons, I don't want this, no. I don't just want you to turn to me because I'm the only one around."

 

She drew in another sharp breath and opened her mouth a few times, then shut it again. The tension in her body spoke loudly of all the different stages her thoughts rushed through - anger, battered ego, sadness.

 

"It... hurts that you can think that," she admitted eventually, and he knew what that had cost her. Her shoulders were still tight and her body rigid, but at least she was no longer trying to get away from him.

 

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. _Truth, Love, Beauty. Revolution._ "It hurts more that you could maybe feel that," he said. And then, because they both needed it, he tugged at her neck until she gave in and let him pull her against his chest.

 

She shuddered in his arms. Breathed deeply. And then she finally got what he was trying to tell her, and she nodded against his chest, and her arms came up to wrap around his waist.

 

He clung to her like that for what seemed like a lifetime, thinking that maybe communication wasn't quite as hard and painful as he had always thought it would be.

 

She grew sleepy in his arms not too long after that, and for the second night in a row, he picked her up in his arms and carried her back to her bed. And once again, she grabbed his hand. Just this time, she refused to let go, and eventually, he sighed and nudged her until she moved over and made room for him in the bed. He fell asleep with his arm wrapped around her waist.

 

*** *** ***

 

He was still in her bed when he opened his eyes again, and he found that it was early, but enough of a morning that there was already daylight streaming into the room. Ziva was still beside him, too, her face turned towards him, and he wasn't used to that at all, so his heart fluttered for a moment. Then he noticed that her eyes were open, and his pulse jumped once more. Her stare was still vacant, though, with her usual teasing spark gone, and it hurt to see that distant gaze in her familiar face.

 

On the upside, there was something to be said about being able to take in her features without fear of being chastised for it, with nothing to stop him from noticing how deeply chocolate brown her eyes were just after waking, or the lovely way her mouth curved. How her lips twitched while she concentrated on something. The shallow pulse beating in the curve of her neck. The way she leaned the tiniest bit closer. The way her nostrils flared when she took in his scent. God, that one was indeed special. Watching her smell him went straight to his groin.

 

"You're awake," she said with a slight smile then, and he blinked, feeling like he was the one who had been caught doing naughty things. Well, maybe.

 

He cleared his throat and said, "Yeah", and her smile deepened, and the next instant it became thoughtful. He asked what was up, of course, but he wasn't prepared for the furious blush that darkened her cheeks instead of a reply. His eyebrows went up at that. Way up. _Ziva, darling, just what have you been thinking...?_

 

"I was wondering if... if you would mind if I touched you again," she said hesitantly, and her cheeks turned a lovely shade of scarlet while she spoke. Quite some embarrassment going on for a girl who had done page fifty-seven multiple times. "I'm afraid I wasn't doing a very good job at taking in your features last night. I got... distracted."

 

She suddenly smiled broadly at that, suggestively, and for some reason that one bold statement made her blush vanish as if it had never been there. Tony shook his head, wondering if he would ever get just what exactly went on in that thick head of hers.

 

Thinking too hard about it would have broken a few brain cells, though, so he just reached for her hand instead. Tugged it gently and pressed her palm against his cheek once more.

 

*** *** ***


	6. Day Six

**Ziva's Saturday morning**

 

 

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt her pulse stumble over her own boldness and his smooth reaction. For a few seconds, she didn't dare to move, didn't dare to start anything that might upset the fragile balance they had built over the years.

 

But his face was so incredibly relaxed against her palm, his breathing so calm that eventually her curiosity alone made her move. She took a slightly shaky breath while she began to drag her fingertips over his cheek, his strong jaw. His stubble tickled her palm in the most delicious way, and she couldn't help thinking that he was quite a catch when he was smooth, but on those few days when she had seen him all... roughed up, was that the right word...? She moved her hand up to his cheekbones, trying not to get distracted again. Failing, naturally, when she took in the texture of his skin.

 

Her fingers slid up into his hair out of their own accord, and she heard his breathing change just the tiniest bit, and yes, he was right, that was too intimate. So she drew back and touched his temple instead, his forehead. He closed his eyes, a soft sigh on his lips, and she took that as an invitation and ran her fingertips across his lids. His lashes brushed against her skin, and she ran her fingertips over them once more. She wondered why she had never really noticed before how incredibly thick and long they were. Most women would kill for those.

 

The sheets rustled softly as he shifted beside her, and Ziva wasn't sure if he had noticed himself that he had moved closer to her every time she'd touched his mouth. His lips tightened slightly under her exploration, but he said nothing, and so she kept going. Kept running her thumb over his lower lip, along the edge. Finding the dimple in his chin, just underneath his lip. She must have seen that a thousand times and never consciously registered it.

 

His breathing changed eventually, grew a little less calm with each of her touches, and he moved closer yet again. His lips were so soft, so warm against her fingertips, but his stubble scratched her skin in such exquisite contrast that it threw her off-balance, and she felt her own pulse pick up speed. _Oh no, not a good idea, Ziva David, stop that right now! _

Her nose twitched when she noticed how his scent had changed subtly at her touch, and she bit her lip hard this time. Not a good idea at all, but his body seemed to have the very same one.

 

He murmured something, and the feeling of his lips making sounds against her skin was so intimate that it sent the slightest shudder of excitement through her. His breath - _so close -_ was warm on her mouth, and she wanted to taste him so badly now, wanted to add that last of her remaining senses to the heady mix that was messing with her. But she didn't dare offer because he would just push her back again. _He would, right?_

 

She slid her hand down to his neck, and his pulse was a steady jackhammer against her palm as he leaned closer.

 

The harsh knock on her apartment door made them both jump.

 

"Ducky," he moaned and jumped out of her bed as if something had stung him.

 

Ziva rolled to her back, breathing hard and pressing her eyes tightly shut. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or mad about the intrusion.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

She could hear Tony's surprise when all he said was, "Boss?"

 

Ziva shook her head, trying to keep the involuntary hysterical giggle under control. Trust Gibbs to show up just when they had been close to almost breaking one of his rules. She got up and tugged at her sweatpants self-consciously, then pulled her top out of its twist while she moved to the bedroom door.

 

"Yeah, Duck's got something to organize, so I'm the filler while you get home," she heard Gibbs' voice over some soft rustling sound that had been most likely him, gently pushing his astonished Senior Field Agent out of the way.

 

Or not so gently, maybe, because Tony's voice was slightly tense when he gathered his wits enough for a reply. "That's okay, I can hand-"

 

"I _said_ while you get home, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted him in the tone he used whenever there was absolutely no room left for interpretation. "Get some sleep in a bed."

 

Ziva, leaning against the frame of her bedroom door now, froze, and for the second time this morning she felt a telltale heat rise in her cheeks. So Gibbs had seen the extra bedding and the pillow on the couch and had naturally assumed... which was a good thing, right? She took a slow, carefully controlled breath, listening in on the conversation.

 

"And _shave_, for God's sake," Gibbs ordered just then, and she wanted to object, wanted to tell Tony not to bother. She didn't dare.

 

The silence stretched while the men apparently tried to stare each other down. Ziva crossed her arms in front of her chest and rested her head against the doorframe, wondering idly who would win this match. Then she felt Tony's gaze on her heavily, and she just knew that he wanted to be with her so badly that for a brief moment he even considered throwing out Gibbs.

 

Eventually though, he gave in, and she heard him murmur something unintelligible while he slipped on his clothes and began folding up the extra bedding from the couch to put it away. And Ziva knew exactly how he felt, because she didn't want him to leave, either.

 

He brushed past her to stow the pillows and sheets in her bedroom, and she didn't move, even when his hand came up to squeeze her shoulder, just once.

 

"I'll be back around eight, okay, Zi?"

 

She nodded and raised her hand to give him a tiny wave because she didn't trust her body language with touching him in return, especially while Gibbs was standing there and watching them. And then his steps moved away from her and the sound of her apartment door told her that she was alone with the boss now.

 

Paper rustled when Gibbs put down the bag he had brought along and came over to her. His steps stopped in front of her, and she imagined that he was scrutinizing her, just the way Ducky had, most likely.

 

But unlike Ducky, Gibbs was always looking for weakness, too, and that was something she was not willing to give him, so she concentrated on the sound of his breathing. She knew from memory how tall he was exactly, and based on that, she raised her hand now to pat his cheek flawlessly.

 

"Thanks, dad," she said quietly, only a hint of sarcasm showing, and instead of pulling back again instantly, she kept her hand on his cheek just that moment longer that let her feel his answering smile against her palm. There was the slightest bit of hesitation in his stance, too, and she had expected it, because they just didn't do that, usually. So she pulled back herself before he felt compelled to give in to the urge, pushed herself away from the doorframe and carefully felt her way towards her bathroom. By now, she was more secure about the dimensions of her apartment, and she managed to cross the distance with only a few, well-placed touches to walls and furniture to guide her.

 

"What's in the bag?" she called over her shoulder

 

She knew that shrugs didn't make sounds, generally. And yet, she felt like she could hear his quite clearly behind her.

 

"Thought you'd be tired of pizza by now."

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

He made lunch for her while she kept him quiet company in the kitchen and just told him where to find what. A man-meal, of course, a juicy steak, but she didn't mind because her stomach started rumbling loudly soon enough. For her sake, he had even upped his usual steak-only diet with French beans wrapped in bacon, peppered and then fried in butter, and that made her mouth water in no time. Ziva had never known that she could tell the exact moment when a steak was just perfect by smell alone, but it turned out that was one of her lesser known talents.

 

He cut the steak for her, and when she still had trouble, he simply swatted her hand away and held the fork to her mouth. It made her laugh, and it felt weird, too, because she didn't mind being fed like that by Gibbs at all.

 

After he had cleared the dishes, there was one more surprise in his bag, and that was a bottle of really good bourbon. That made her mouth water, too, not because she was a bourbon girl (were there any, really?), but because she longed for the clarity that a good, strong drink could bring. Probably not a good idea to mix with painkillers, but she hadn't taken any this morning, so when he offered, she accepted. It burned her throat and made her eyes water, but it was good, and after the first few swigs it got easier on her.

 

"So, what are you gonna do now?" he asked beside her after a while, and she found that it was her turn to shrug.

 

"You mean when will I be back to work?"

 

"That's not what I asked."

 

"Good, because they don't know yet if I will be." The words burned in her throat worse than the bourbon had, and she took another sip to cover for it.

 

Gibbs still knew, though, and when he spoke again, his voice was very low. "So what _are_ you gonna do now?"

 

Ziva couldn't remember if she had ever heard him speak this softly before. She sighed and raised a hand to rub her forehead, trying to smooth away the beginnings of yet another headache.

 

"I have no idea," she admitted finally. "This is not a situation I had to ever give thought to before."

 

She felt him nod beside her, and while his big hand was resting on her shoulder, she raised her glass and drained it. And after a long, long while, she heard him say, "Listen. I found this website..."

 

It made her laugh, and she felt his eyes on her while she giggled. "_You_ found a website?" Maybe she wasn't used to drinking anymore.

 

And then he laughed, too, squeezed her shoulder and admitted, "Yeah, well, McGee found it."

 

She heard the sound of papers being unfolded, and that made her laugh out really loud. It was just like Gibbs to bring a printout of a website.

 

.

 

 

**Tony's Saturday night**

 

Tony was back a while before eight, even though he had tried to dawdle around and taken another walk around the block before going up to her apartment. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so eaten up by nervousness.

 

His fingers jingled the keys he had taken the morning he had left her alone. She hadn't asked him to give them back yet, and it made him feel all things weird and protective, and God, yes, there were times when he just wanted to lock her in to keep her safe. But even that wouldn't work the way he'd want it to, as she had proven herself.

 

He slipped the key into the lock and turned it, and the first sound that greeted him was Ziva, laughing. It made him hesitate for a second and less sure on what he was about to walk in. Then he let out a slow breath, put the charmer's smile on and pushed the door open.

 

Ziva and Gibbs, side by side on her couch, looking utterly relaxed. Both with a drink in their hands. Both turning towards him and looking for all the world as if they had this kind of after-office-drink every other night. Nothing out of the ordinary.

 

Except that Ziva's eyes were still unfocused when she said his name.

 

"Tony?"

 

"Yeah," he replied and cleared his throat, feeling like he was intruding on something and not liking it one bit. "Seems like I missed the party."

 

"And one hell of a steak," she agreed and smiled at him in a way that he had never seen on her while Gibbs was still around. Oh yeah, it did give him a nice fuzzy feeling, alright. It also made him wonder if she was drunk.

 

Gibbs got to his feet then, and his hand touched Ziva's head for a moment, just brushing her hair briefly, and Tony had to fight an insane stab of jealousy at that. He took another slow breath, tried to control it very carefully while he watched Gibbs put his glass down and take his jacket. His eyes narrowed when the older man patted his shoulder on the way out, and when Gibbs gave him a sidelong glance, Tony knew that his boss had a pretty good understanding about what was going on in his agent's head right now.

 

"Don't stay up all night, kids," Gibbs said with the corner of his mouth quirking up in a hit-and-run smile. Then he gave Tony's shoulder a quick squeeze, closed the door behind himself and left Tony to struggle with his emotions on his own.

 

"So what did I miss?" he heard himself ask, and the moment it was out of his mouth, it made him wince because even to his own ears that sounded childishly possessive.

 

Ziva smiled and raised her glass, turning it softly until the scent drifted up to her nose. "Not much, really. We just talked a lot."

 

"You... talked?" His voice sounded incredulous, and she laughed again. And once more he wondered if she was tipsy or just in a good mood. "All day?"

 

"Yes, Tony. What's so shocking about that?"

 

"Just trying to imagine that. You. Gibbs. Talking." His eyebrows went up. "A lot?"

 

This time, she even gave him a giggle. "Yes, it was more than three sentences, I assure you."

 

"What about?"

 

Her hesitation made him wish he hadn't asked, and there was the fucking jealousy again, stab-stab-stabbing away at him. Not jealousy of a physical nature, because he didn't think she'd ever fool around with Gibbs like that, no way. He was, in all honesty, simply jealous because she trusted Gibbs the way she did. Because she opened up to Gibbs so easily, without hesitating once. And because things were never quite as easy for her as soon as Tony was involved.

 

"My... possible future," she said just then, and his heart skipped a beat and told him to stuff the jealousy. "If this proves to be permanent, for instance."

 

"Nonsense," he heard himself say, and yes, deep down he knew that wasn't quite the kind of reassurance she was looking for, but he couldn't help it. He was, after all, still the guy who looked at reality and refused to accept it.

 

And while he was thinking weirdly random thoughts, he dropped her keys and took off his jacket and went over to the couch to sit beside Ziva. Then he just reached for her and pulled her over until she had no choice but to sit on his lap. He felt her distinct irritation at the unfamiliar intimacy but decided to ignore it in favor of snagging her glass and taking a sip from the bourbon.

 

Strong stuff. Coughing, he put down the glass and leaned back, one hand around Ziva's waist, the other resting high on her thigh, carefully avoiding any indecent spots. They might have gone to a new level of physicality in their friendship thanks to that freak accident, and this morning... well. Despite all that, she was his partner, not his girlfriend.

 

_Yet, _a tiny voice piped up in the back of his head, and he told it firmly to stuff it.

 

It took a few moments, but eventually, Ziva gave up her struggle, relaxed into the new situation and put one arm around his neck, accepting his touch.

 

"It's just a matter of time, Ziva," he murmured with a sigh then, and the way she leaned over until her forehead touched his almost distracted him from what he wanted to say. "You'll be blinking your pretty browns at suspects again in no time at all, I swear."

 

"But what if I don't, Tony?" she said, and her voice was so soft and serious that he fell silent and actually listened to her. "I can't be an NCIS agent if I can't see, and that means I can't become a legal citizen, and _that_ means... a lot of other things I seriously do not want to think about," she turned the sentence when she heard him take a deep breath because he didn't want to think about any of that, either. "But I might have to, and you know that."

 

"Yeah."

 

Her hand at his neck distracted him because she had begun to move it in a soft, stroking motion. For a moment, it made him wonder if his idea of touch-communication had been such a bright one.

 

She kept running her fingertips over the scruff in his neck, bringing her fingernails into play every now and then, and the sensation made him shudder. And maybe that distraction was the reason his mouth opened and his brain fell out.

 

"I could just make you a spouse. You're already bitching like you're my wife, anyway. Wouldn't make that much of a difference."

 

She chuckled softly, bourbon-y breath warm against his cheek, and then she raised the hand that wasn't playing with his neck to pat his face at the suggestion. He was almost glad that she knew this was just a joke and a little sad that she thought it was.

 

"Do you miss me at work that desperately?" she teased him, and he rubbed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "McGee won't do your paperwork, yes?"

 

"Work was never the hard part, Zi, even when we thought you were dead," he said, and he still had his eyes closed, so if he concentrated really, really hard he could maybe fool himself into believing that he wasn't just spilling it all to her. "Losing you completely was. The thought of never seeing you again. Never being able to say-"

 

The words caught in his throat after all, and he shut up and stuck with holding her and breathing her in. She smelled so good tonight that he wouldn't have thought twice about going through with his offer. Whatever was necessary to keep her in his life this time.

 

He felt her pulse speed up where her wrist lay against his neck while he stopped talking, but she didn't say a word in return. She didn't tense up or go downright stiff on him again, either, so that was a plus. And after a while, her fingertips took up the lazy journey along his neck once more, and he let go of the breath he had been holding.

 

"So what did Gibbs mean when he said we shouldn't stay up all night? Strongly assuming he wasn't talking about _that_," she clarified, her smile playful against his cheek.

 

"Oh, right. The real party, I almost forgot about that."

 

"What?" Now she did tense, but Tony kept his arm around her waist and pretended he hadn't noticed, sticking his tongue out at reality once more.

 

"Yeah, it's a surprise for you. Abby will be here in a bit, and we'll dress you up so you're the most stunning Israeli in town, and then we'll meet McGee and Palmer and his girl and go clubbing."

 

The budding tension in her body turned into sudden squirming and an attempt to break free, but he kept his hold on her waist, which worked because he was a lot stronger than she was, after all. Thank God she didn't think about using Mossad attack stuff on him, though.

 

"Relax, Ziva. Please," he said, and she opened her mouth to say something, but then just pressed her lips together tightly and stopped the fighting. She still sat on his lap stiff as a rod, though, so he rubbed foreheads again until he felt her give in, little by little.

 

"We'll be with you, all the way, and I won't let you out of my sight for one minute, I swear. And yes," he said when he felt her draw back to object, "I know that you can take care of yourself."

 

His voice turned into the low, seductive one while he spoke, the one that meant he was seriously going for something. He hadn't planned that, and he was almost sorry about it, but then she leaned into him and her breath was on his neck again, and now he was only sorry that he hadn't turned that voice on her sooner. He turned his face into her neck and breathed her in in turn.

 

"I'll just have your six, that's all. And we'll go out and have a few drinks with friends, and if all you want to do is sit around in a corner and look stunning while you mope, be my guest." Her breath on his neck was driving him crazy, and he was starting to ramble, he was sure about that, but if he didn't...

 

Her index finger rode up the side of his neck again, and he shivered and tried to think of football. "You just need to get out, Zi. You need something to clear your head."

 

"Mmh." The low sound against his cheek distracted him even more, and the hand she ran down his chest now, fingers testing the line of his shirt, didn't help to keep his own head any clearer. "Okay."

 

It took a few heartbeats until he registered her agreement, and by then, her hands had gone busy and were taking a tour over his clothing, flexing against his chest, even sliding into his shirt. He actually gasped when she started to feel around his hips and thighs, too. For some reason, thoughts of football were elusive.

 

"What are you doing that for?" he asked, and damn, that stuttering voice wasn't the seductive DiNozzo anymore, that was the needy one.

 

She laughed against his cheek. Of course she had noticed. "To figure out what you are wearing. So I can dress accordingly."

 

He swallowed hard at the implications that may or may not have been coincidental. "You could have just asked," he replied, leaning into her while she ran her hand down his side and made him shiver with anticipation.

 

And her voice stroked his skin like dark velvet. "This way is more fun."

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

He clenched his teeth when he saw the dress Abby had picked from Ziva's closet. "That's short," he commented, and Abby grinned at him as if he had said something funny.

 

"That's the whole point, genius," she replied and bounced off towards the bathroom, where Ziva was waiting for her to get all dressed up. His hand came up before he could control the urge, grabbing Abby's arm. It made her eyebrows rise in a mixture of amusement and scolding. "I thought we all agreed that we want her sexy, Tony."

 

"Sexy, yes, but not fighting for her virtue all evening!"

 

Ziva's voice, from the bathroom, giving him softly mocking laughter. "You will not be my knight in shining armor then?"

 

The bathroom door was closed in his face, and soon enough, he heard honest-to-God giggling coming through. Tony sighed and let his head fall back in defeat, staring at the ceiling. One of them was just hard to handle, but his girls teamed up against him left him no more chances than Chuck Norris had in a romance movie.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

Tony got nervous after a while, and so he did what he always did in these situations and started fussing with his hair while he waited for them to finish. He had no idea if they were still in the normal time frame for women getting dressed up because he had no experience to go by. He had always just picked them up when they were done. Maybe that was the reason women were always late, though.

 

"Abby, really, I'm not sure..." Ziva's voice, while the bathroom door was opened. He froze in the middle of fiddling with his hair yet again.

 

"_I'm_ sure, and I'm your style guide for the evening!" Abby's voice pronounced firmly, and Ziva's sigh sounded heavy with dread.

 

"That is what worries me, Abby. You do realize we have different opinions about style, yes?"

 

"No, we just have different tastes," Abby said. Then she grinned and added, "And now shut up and let me run your outfit through the Tony test-o-meter."

 

"What?" he and Ziva said simultaneously, and Abby snickered.

 

"If Tony gawks, it's hot," she explained while she dragged a slightly resistant Ziva out of the bathroom.

 

He wasn't sure if what he did qualified as gawking. He was sure, though, that his brain shut down and left the building, and if that was the effect Abby had been going for... boy, in that case she had hit her mark, big time.

 

The dress was short, alright. Silver, sequined, the skirt part barely reaching mid-thigh and hugging her hips in a way that made him think of long, hot nights danced away in Cuba. The top... he wasn't even sure if it could be called a top because it was mostly just two stripes of fabric going up from the skirt and meeting in her neck, showing more cleavage than he knew she had. Matching belt, long, dangly earrings that brushed her bare shoulders. They had wrapped up her hair in a sort of bun, with one thick strand escaping ponytail-like and brushing down her back. _Bare back. Man, he was so screwed._

In contrast to the outfit, Abby had gone for a subtle makeup, dark browns that were just enough to make Ziva's eyes all smoky and sexy. The Israeli was smiling quietly at his obvious loss for words, and when she looked down he could have sworn she was batting her eyelashes at him in a way that sped up his pulse even more.

 

"So does he gawk?" she asked, and it sounded playful, slightly amused. He still heard the uncertainty underneath it, and since this was not the night for doubts, he came over and reached for her hand.

 

Abby didn't say anything, but grinned at him so broadly that he was afraid she might have a facial spasm if she couldn't express her excitement anytime soon. She watched them both while Tony put his partner's fingertips to his face again, to let her feel her way around his stunned expression, and the Goth bounced beside them, not far from squealing.

 

"Doesn't she look just _awesome_, Tony?"

 

"Oh yeah, she does," he said. Ziva shuddered slightly when she felt the words on his lips, felt the way he was tilting his head and leaning towards her, and yeah, she obviously decided it fell into the gawking category because she smiled, rose up on her toes and - with the guidance of her hand on his cheek - pressed a quick peck to the other side of his face, saying "thank you" ever so softly.

 

Abby did squeal then.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

Palmer's girl... no, _Breena_, he reminded himself, because he should by all means get used to that name.

 

So, Breena had picked the club, and she had good taste in clubs, Tony had to give her that. Not too big and in-crowdy, dark and sexy, sort of a steamy Salsa feeling going on. It wasn't loud enough for Abby's taste, but she promised to make do for the evening.

 

They snatched a table that had a good view of the dance floor but Tony didn't care much for the bodies jostling on it. He kept his gaze mostly trained on Ziva, who in turn leaned closer to him every now and then, especially if he hadn't brushed her side for a while. It felt like her checking in if he was still with her, and after it had happened a few times, he turned slightly in his seat and leaned back until he could put his hand to the clothed part of her lower back without being too obvious about it. She blinked, just the tiniest moment of irritation in her posture. And then she relaxed.

 

The chatter and easy mood between them reminded Tony of a lot of other evenings they had spent together as a team, in the bar where they had met for after-case-drinks and in-between-case-drinks and lord-please-just-get-me-through-this-case-drinks. He wondered when exactly they had stopped doing that. Probably sometime around Agent Lee's death, a lot of stuff had been broken then. It made him wonder if (and how) he could get them to do it more often again, because he had missed it, kinda.

 

Of course, they noticed him getting nostalgic, and that was their cue to start ribbing on him. Even Ziva chimed in when she accused him of not having quoted one single movie with blind characters in it the whole week, which made McGee snicker, Abby's jaw drop in shock and Palmer ask if he might be losing his edge.

 

Tony grimaced and rolled his eyes and said, fine, if they all insisted, he'd lose the hint of tact he'd been trying to show. She was right, though, he hadn't even thought about it once. Maybe because his mind had been preoccupied.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

Two hours, several rounds of drinks and shouted chats later everyone except for Tony and Ziva had taken turns in humping on the dance floor, with Palmer dragging Breena off quite often. The rest of the gang suspected that he just wanted to keep them from telling his girlfriend all the embarrassing details too soon. Not that they would have done that, of course. They'd have gone straight for the ones that made embarrassing look lame.

 

They had both gotten asked a few times by strangers. Ziva was more polite and declined her own offers. Tony simply didn't notice his most of the time, which made Abby whisper to McGee each time with a lot of giggling involved. The Probie, in turn, rolled his eyes every time and ordered another round until Tony suspected they had bet on something.

 

Eventually, Ziva was relaxing so much beside him that he even caught her swinging along to a Rob Thomas number, eyes closed, her arms up in the air and totally lost to the beat. She looked so hot then, and yeah, now he could tell that she was clearly getting a bit drunk, but even he had to admit that concern was the last thing on his mind when she tapped her feet and her leg brushed against his with each of her moves.

 

That was when Abby punched his arm, and he whipped around with a yelp.

 

"Ow! What was that for?"

 

"Get her on the dance floor already, Tony!" Abby yelled over the music.

 

He felt Ziva stiffen beside him mid-move, lowering her arms and looking self-conscious all of a sudden. He could see her pulse beat harshly in the curve of her neck, and his own spiked just the same. For a second he considered asking Abby what the hell she was rambling about... and then he realized that she wasn't that far off.

 

Ziva needed this. She needed just five minutes of letting go, completely.

 

Of course she tensed when he grabbed her hand. "Tony, no. I don't know how..."

 

"Liar. You do know how to dance," he chuckled and held her hand tighter.

 

Her mouth opened, then snapped shut again while she still refused to follow his lead. "Not blind," she said, a trace of anger tinting her voice now, and he leaned into her.

 

"No mistakes in the tango, darling. Not like life," he said in his best Pacino voice. "You get tangled up, you just tango on."

 

She frowned at the obvious quote, and he grinned and moved so close that he could have kissed her easily. "_Scent of a Woman_, 1992. A young Gabrielle Anwar in a sexy dress very much like yours doing a mean round of tango with a blind Al Pacino. Now _that's_ a scene you could get off to."

 

He had dropped his voice with the last line so that only Ziva could hear him, and she turned her head as if to stare at him just when he pulled back to a safe distance and raised his arm to return Abby's high-five across the table.

 

"There you go! That's my boy!"

 

Ziva's hand clenched around his almost painfully, but this time, she got to her feet when he tried to drag her along.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

Two steps led down to the level of the dance floor, and out of an impulse Tony turned around, put his hands to her hips and lifted her down instead of just guiding her. Her hands came up to his shoulders to steady her, and her body brushed against his while he set her down. He felt her breath hitch at the contact and her focus shift, and damn, he wanted to see more of that sort of reaction going on. Much more. Why were they stuck on a fucking dance floor again?

 

It was a struggle, but eventually he managed to draw back. He saw her take a slow breath, too, and then she tugged her dress back down that had ridden up her thighs, and that gesture got to him so good he felt dizzy for a moment.

 

"Okay," he said, and he wasn't sure if she could hear him, with his voice turning rough on him. "Over there, empty spot."

 

He took her hand again and began to clear the way just when Ziva was run over by some idiot who almost spilled his drink on her. She flinched and pulled her hand from his, and Tony turned and stared at her. Her arms had come up to cover any potentially sensitive areas out of reflex, but she didn't look dangerous, she looked, for the first time since he had known her, genuinely scared.

 

He cursed and wanted to smack the jerk senseless, but Ziva was more important, so he pulled her to his chest and murmured something against her cheek so she would know it was him. The moment she relaxed against him, he tugged her along to sway with her, sighing. For just a second he had been afraid that she might be capable of doing a mean Pacino impression herself.

 

She made a soft, surprised sound when he moved with her this way, because it was a pretty fast number, not one made for snuggle dancing, but he didn't really care. Ziva needed an anchor, something to focus on, and that was the best he could give her, so he slow-danced her over to the less crowded spot. And after a few more moments, she closed her eyes, and that told him that she had begun to concentrate on the music.

 

On his movements, too. She kept her hands on his chest or his arms all the time, feeling the way his muscles moved and trying to anticipate what he wanted to do. It surprised him a bit that she was ridiculously easy to lead when she wanted to be.

 

It didn't take long until she got a good feel for it, and she became more daring then and moved out of his embrace in some turns, getting more in sync with the beat. She was really rolling her hips and kicking her legs soon, and it seemed so easy for them to move together like that. She still kept one of her hands on him almost constantly, though, feeling him up and seeking his presence. Making sure he wouldn't leave her.

 

It got tight for Tony when she finally figured out something else and started moving not just with him, but against him, pressing into his body just the right way to make his breath come faster. And then she turned again and bumped her back into him so suggestively that it made him groan, and his hands came up to her hips to stop her movement.

 

"Easy," he said, keeping her still and yet pressing up against her because he couldn't help it. He felt her breathing, fast, and she writhed in his grip, just a tiny bit.

 

He stared down at her neck, breathing heavily, and he wanted to bite it. Just wanted to lean down and mark her. His hands moved up slowly, leaving the safe zone covered by skirt, and she leaned into him even more when he touched her bare sides and let his thumbs skim up her back. She shuddered against him, and he closed his eyes... and then he jerked when he had to fight the very vivid image of just bending her over and... _Deep shit ahead, DiNozzo. Get a grip._

 

Oh yeah, he'd been the one suggesting she let go, right. And what had he been thinking again? _Thinking? Good one._

 

The music changed to a slower number, finally, and Ziva turned in his arms, but kept pressing into him from her toes up. Her face was flushed, and her hair was starting to come undone, and God, she looked so utterly fuckable right now...

 

She murmured something against his cheek then, and he said "What?" because he hadn't heard her over the pulse thumping in his ears.

 

"Can I ask for a favor?" she repeated, louder this time, and that made him draw back and look at her face. All serious, but still fuckable beyond imagination.

 

"Yeah," he said, not trusting his voice with anything more complex.

 

Her eyelids fluttered, and then she leaned into him again. "Will you not push me away tonight?"

 

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath, finding it hard to think rationally when she said things like that. He moved his mouth close to her ear and gave her his best try at an honest answer.

 

"If you're not going for a pity fuck again."

 

Her mouth smiled against his neck, and he couldn't remember when she had put her face there, but it turned out that he didn't really care because her lips made his skin throb in the most delicious way.

 

"What is that saying?" she murmured and ran her hand down his side. "'Deal'?"

 

He nodded, and another Pacino quote came to mind while he led her back to their seats. _When in doubt, fuck._

 

He had enough common sense to keep his mouth shut this time.

 

 

*** *** ***


	7. Day Seven

**Ziva's Sunday morning**

 

 

She woke from the weight of an arm around her waist, and for a second she had trouble remembering how they had gotten back to her apartment. Then Tony mumbled something in his sleep and pressed his face into her neck, and it came back, little by little.

 

Abby, helping her up the stairs and out of the dress and getting her into the shower really quick. Tony, smelling so good again and faintly of her own soap when he had come to her bed a short time after that. Murmuring something like he was getting too old for these long nights. She remembered being half asleep already, but still chuckling against his chest - _bare chest -_ at his long, drawn-out yawn, just before nodding off.

 

His breath was flowing softly and steadily against her neck now, making the fine hairs at the nape of her neck move and stand on edge with the sensation. She turned her head slightly and felt his cheek rub against hers. His arm tightened around her waist when she moved, and she raised her own hand to run her fingers through his hair until he settled back down and his sleep calmed once more. And then she blinked, wondering what had just happened.

 

Carefully, she put her injured hand to his shoulder and felt the strong muscles shift slightly underneath her touch. Then she slid her other hand down his bare back slowly, and it felt good there and fit just right. Unlike others she had been with, his embrace wasn't possessive. A bit, yes, but far from the bad way. Not enough to make her run away from this, whatever _this_ would turn into, eventually.

 

His skin was so warm against hers. He smelled warm, too, even though that didn't really make sense, but that was the thought that first came to her mind when she breathed in his scent. He didn't just smell like her soap anymore, he smelled like her now, too. Like her bed. Or was it her bed that smelled like him?

 

Her thumb met the scar on his shoulder, and for a while, she distracted herself with thoughts about how this accident would have turned her life if she had still been with Mossad. If she had still been in Israel, without a team to have her back in the way her American family had. And since this early in the morning Ziva felt like being honest with herself for a change, she found that she probably owed them a lot more than just a few days of their time.

 

She listened to the rhythm of Tony's breathing against her chest. Tried to remember the last time she had felt so at ease with someone else sharing her bed. (Protective, that was the right word for the way he held her.) And then she wondered why she couldn't even remember one time like this, because it seemed like a good way to wake up, after all. His arm tightened around her again, and she let her fingertips play across his skin, just for the closeness and the feel of him.

 

She found to her own surprise that she didn't mind being with Tony this way. Not at all. And in that one quiet moment, just before dawn, when everything seemed strangely simple, she was almost sure that no matter what happened from now on, no matter how her life would twist and turn during the next weeks and months and years, she wouldn't mind being with him like this for a long time coming.

 

She had gotten tangled up in a lot of ways. But that did not mean she couldn't just tango on.

 

And so Ziva closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his forehead, and just before she drifted back to slumber herself, she turned her face to breathe in his scent once more.

 

"I figured out my reasons," she told him then, very softly.

 

She was tired and almost asleep, so she couldn't be really sure, but for a second it almost felt like his tempting, sleeping mouth smiled against her skin.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

The next time she woke, she was still trapped in his arms, but at some point he had pulled her over to his side so that she was now sprawled across his body. She blinked, coming to her senses slowly, and when Tony stirred, too, she felt her thigh resting high between his. And yes, it felt good, but this was so far from just being enjoyable, so little like mere snuggling that she tried to move away out of reflex.

 

His arm tightened around her lower back, though, keeping her right where she was. Her hand, splayed against his naked chest, picked up his pulse, hard and fast, and no, he was no longer asleep now, not the least bit. His leg shifted underneath her, and she heard her own breath hitch in her throat when he turned to face her and pressed his thigh deeper between hers. His hand on her back urged her closer, his fingers spreading against bare skin where her top had ridden up, and they both shuddered at the feel of that contact.

 

For a second, she wondered what would happen now. Who would interrupt them. Which one of them would draw back this time. And then the moment of hesitation was gone, and he leaned towards her, his hand on her back sliding lower, and she moaned. And that was when he kissed her, for real.

 

She had always imagined this, if it were ever to happen, to be soft and playful. Instead, she got a wild hunger and needy lips on hers. He was so busy tasting her that there was no time left for playfulness, and his strong hands helped Ziva's body arch into his all too willingly. His tongue pushed deep into her, filled her mouth with his taste, and his scent soaked into her skin while she echoed the rough sounds he made low in his throat. And oh, yes, that was him she felt against her thigh, alright. So hard, so hungry for her that all rational thought fled, not glancing back once.

 

Oh, she had known that he was a kisser instead of a toucher, of course, from years back and then just last night. That his hands rarely teased, just held. That he could get lost in a good kiss easily, and that he knew what he was doing there, really. But all that knowledge had not prepared her for this, and she'd had no idea that when he _really_ kissed he was so focused on his intent that he became overwhelming. Overpowering.

 

He wasn't bothering with soft nibbles or a playful brushing of lips, unlike other men who loved to lose themselves in that sort of soft teasing they thought all women wanted as foreplay. No, Tony just... _wanted_ her, plain and simple. He sucked her mouth hard and licked her lips and fucked her tongue, drawing it back into his own mouth until Ziva's skin burned and her head was spinning with need.

 

His hands were on her face to hold her just the way he wanted her. Every now and then he was drawing back to lick her neck, but even that seemed to be too much of a distraction for him, and so he always came back to her mouth soon, tasting her hungrily, his hands alternating between holding her face and grabbing her hips to draw them up against his own body, his thigh already riding her so hard that she ended up with digging her fingernails into his shoulder.

 

She shuddered between her moans because she had forgotten the stitches for a moment, but she didn't stop because even that was okay. They had a history of mingling love and pain.

 

"Tony," she gasped, and he paused long enough to roll to his back and draw her with him until she was straddling him. She moved with him willingly, against him, and he groaned, his hands on her hips pressing her down against his hardness until she shuddered, falling forward, gasping at each thrust as if he were inside her already. Heat rushed through her, and she was sure that he could feel that just like she could feel him hard against her. Her arms, with hands flat against his chest, trembled, and she didn't feel strong enough to keep herself upright much longer.

 

Too... much... clothing.

 

And yes, apparently he felt the same way because just then his hands came up to grab the hem of her shirt, and she had to concentrate to lift her arms so he could pull it off her. She leaned back on his lap then, grinding down hard on him, and he groaned and dropped her shirt.

 

And then, just like that, he fell silent, distracted all of a sudden, and she knew that he was staring at her now, taking in the body he had never seen like this before.

 

She longed to see his face so much that it made her ache. His body spoke a clear language, yes, but she wanted to see so desperately if his long silence was really born from lust or just years of emotions piled up. She wanted to _watch_ him look at her, because Ziva had never been self-conscious about her body before. She had made enough people lust over it so easily, after all. But Tony, American boy that he was, had a tendency to go after women that were way more busty, and for just a heartbeat she couldn't help but wonder.

 

"Disappointed?" she asked, putting a little playful lilt to the end to hide how serious she felt.

 

Her hand, still on his chest, felt his heart beat strongly against her palm while she waited for him to answer. His breath was strangely even, though, and it made her even more nervous that he felt so calmly controlled, because that wasn't really the Tony she knew. Most of the time, anyway.

 

And then he just said "Are you _nuts?_", and his voice was so dark, so rough that she heard every bit of want in it that he had ever felt for her. His hips bucked up against hers once more, and she groaned at the sensation. His hands came up to her face at the same time, pulling her down against his body roughly, his arms almost crushing her to his chest.

 

His mouth sucked hers hard, and he fucked her lips again with his tongue, eating her up until she was barely able to catch her breath. And then he rolled them both over until he was leaning over her, only letting go of her hips long enough to push her sweats down over her butt. Kept his thigh buried deeply between hers, just dragged her pants down far enough to press more of her bare skin against his own. His strong hands grabbed her hips again, fingers splayed over her naked ass now, pulling her up so hard against his cock that she cried out and dug her nails into his shoulders again.

 

And then his lips did leave hers after all when he bent down and sucked on her nipple hard enough to make her body arch up underneath him. She moaned helplessly, and he kept sucking her, kept drawing her breast into his hungry mouth while he tortured her roughly with his tongue, and she couldn't help it, she had to mark him then, had to dig her teeth into his shoulder to keep the scream inside that he wanted to draw from her throat.

 

"Jesus, Ziva," he gasped and jerked against her, shuddering over her, and she licked his shoulder, tasting his sweat.

 

"You started it," she said, and then she hooked her leg around the back of his thigh and pulled him roughly down on her. He moaned, and then he froze above her, his muscles trembling hard.

 

"One minute," he pressed out. "Just one... minute... please..."

 

"Why?" she asked, and she knew, of course, but she wanted him to keep going, too, wanted him inside her, and this was not the time for stopping.

 

He grabbed her wrist and kept her hand from going for his sweatpants, and he was shaking all over now, struggling for control. "Because it would be damn embarrassing to come like this," he groaned into her neck.

 

His words sent a rush of mad heat through her body. She turned her face so she could rub her cheek against his fresh stubble, and that sent another stab of want through her. Then she smiled and ran her mouth along his earlobe.

 

"How much have I teased you over the years?" she murmured, and he let go of her hand, bracing himself above her. "You have shown more control than I expected." He shuddered at her words, and she laughed, running her hands down his chest. "But if you are good, I might be persuaded to grant you a few minutes of recovery time..."

 

For some reason, that stilled his movements, and Ziva frowned, wondering what she had done to make him turn all serious again. It felt so out of place right in the middle of... _this_. Her hand against his chest twitched nervously, and Tony put his own over it, pressing her palm against the frenzied hammering of his heart so hard that it made her stop moving, too.

 

He was silent for such a long time that she wondered again what was going on in his head. She wanted to see the look on his face so desperately now because she had no idea what to make of this, of him just staring down at her, starting out to say something a few times and then not doing it after all.

 

And in the end, all he said was, "I don't want us to recover from this, Ziva."

 

Her throat was so tight all of a sudden, and her breath came a little harder when she raised the hand that wasn't trapped against his frantically beating heart to touch his cheek.

 

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, really. That this was all about the healing.

 

But just then he had to recall what they had been trying to do in the first place, and he leaned forward and began to kiss her once more. And he did that so well that she lost herself in his touch in a way that _was_ embarrassing.

 

He breathed in harshly at her reaction and licked her mouth, and while he did that, his hand moved down her body, slipping between her legs to finally touch her wet heat. Making her whimper with need as if he had flipped a switch.

 

"Ziva," he groaned into her mouth, and the heel of his hand moved and pressed against her _just_ right, and she felt her own body tense up from her toes on and... and... _oh_.

 

She knew that he watched her come, that he drank in every second of it, and she knew the slight surprise that would show on his face. And then she felt him shudder, too, and she knew what the sight of her did to him, but she couldn't have stopped it if the fate of the world had depended on it, so she just threw her head back and rode his fingers and writhed underneath him. Her nails were digging into his shoulder hard enough to leave more marks.

 

When she finally came down from the high, she felt so deliciously weak that it took her a moment to react when he kissed her, so softly that she barely felt it at first. His lips were... happy, for lack of a better word, and although his need was still obvious against her thigh, he seemed content with just tasting her gently for now.

 

And she smiled back at him because she felt so good, too. But for now it was enough to admit that to herself, so she fell back into their old habits of smoke and mirrors for just a bit longer.

 

"Wipe that smug grin off your face, Agent DiNozzo," she muttered, kissing him, and his smile widened impossibly against her lips.

 

"Why would I... ooh," he chuckled, feigning sudden understanding. "I'm sorry, Agent David, but I think I kinda missed that, could you do it again...?"

 

She laughed weakly while she felt him press another tender kiss to the corner of her mouth.

 

"Make me."

 

He flicked his fingers inside her, and she groaned.

 

.

 

**Tony's Sunday morning**

 

Her elbow caught him in the ribs at one point, and he jerked awake, feeling slightly disoriented for a moment. Ziva, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat, rolled over to his side of the bed and snuggled into his embrace. _Snuggled. Ziva? _

 

Her breath was calm and steady against his skin, and he had one of those moments when - just for a heartbeat - the whole world felt majorly out of whack. And then his heart beat once more, and having Ziva draped all over his body was the most natural thing in the world.

 

It certainly was one of the best. He ran a careful hand down her bare back, and she sighed so softly in her sleep that his mouth widened into a smile. Maybe he'd be really lucky and never get used to this.

 

He turned just a bit so he could fit his arm around her better, and his shoulder throbbed slightly at the movement. He'd have to check later if she had left bite marks, really (which he strongly suspected), but even if there were any, he didn't mind because they had been worth it, big time. This whole night had been worth it, and not just in the way of great sex.

 

His body stirred lazily, getting interested at the mere thought again, and yeah, it had been that great and then some. But that wasn't the thing that made him smile now. The thing that left him feeling... content.

 

Carefully, trying not to wake her, he ran his fingertips up her back, barely brushing her skin. He felt the tiny hairs along her spine, so soft underneath his touch and just as responsive as the rest of her. Her skin tightened up under his hands in the delicious way that made him want to bury his nose into her neck and rub his face against the sensitive patch he had discovered just between her shoulder blades. She was so incredibly soft to his touch, despite the way she trained her body, despite the occasional scar breaking the pattern, and it felt like he could do this for hours without getting tired of it. And that was when he realized that stroking her like that calmed him even more than brushing her hair had done.

 

For a moment he thought about waking her up and loving her once more, but just then she turned her head and pressed her nose into the curve of his neck, and he sighed and remembered that there was all the time in the world left for that. So he just drew her closer carefully and buried his face into her hair.

 

"I love you," he found himself saying, and it felt strange, really, that his voice should have such a surprised ring to it.

 

She kept snoring very softly into his neck, but her arm tightened around his waist.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

The next time he woke, the bed was empty, and he panicked for the second it took to turn his head and see her standing at the window, naked and so beautiful it made his throat tighten. It washed away the rest of his sleepiness instantly, and he rolled to his side and propped himself up on one elbow to drink in her sight and give it a special place in his memory.

 

She had opened the window to let in some fresh spring air, and the late morning sun played games on her skin and made spots of light chase each other across her shoulders and chest. She had her palms resting on the windowsill and her face turned into the sun, eyes closed, and he wanted to kiss her so much right then. Wanted to brush her hair out of her face and run the strands through his fingers. Wanted to explore her body, run his fingers over it until she got goose bumps. Wanted to lick her and taste how she would feel on his tongue in the morning. He wanted to do so many things that he couldn't decide on what to do first.

 

And then it hit him that he was actually allowed to do all that now.

 

He took in a deep breath, and his heart felt like it was ready to jump out of his chest when she turned her head just a tiny bit at the sound and smiled. More beauty.

 

Her curls, falling in big waves down her back, looked like they were glowing with a halo of sunlight, and he discovered that the thing he really wanted to do first was bury his hands into that amazing softness. And then, maybe, he would proceed to kiss her senseless.

 

He could see the soft curve of her breast against the curtain of light, and yeah, he had left marks of his own, but she didn't seem to mind. Lovely nipples, perking up as if they were just waiting to be licked. Had to be cold on her side of the room.

 

She tilted her head back and turned her face into the sunshine once more, relishing the warmth. Her back curved in such a wonderfully luscious way that he felt overwhelmed for a moment, thinking that he wanted to wake up like that every day from now on. And yeah, he knew that their quiet moments would be the rare ones, but a man could dream, after all.

 

His stomach rumbled faintly, and he thought about taking her out for breakfast... well, brunch, rather. He could take her to that bookstore at Dupont Circle, and they'd have food there, and then he could buy her some audio books to keep her busy during the days, and-

 

And she turned, and he noticed her smile while she watched the sun play across his skin, too.

 

_Watched him. _His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat, and then he met her gaze.

 

Just like he always had. Nothing like it had been before.

 

Her eyes were so calm that he wondered for a moment if he might have been hallucinating, if he just saw what he wanted to see. But then her smile deepened, and she looked at him all different - warm, hot, excited, and with so many emotions battling each other that his throat tightened again.

 

In the end, she just tilted her head and said, "Isn't this the most beautiful day?"

 

And he knew that no matter where they went from here, this was worth it. This had all been worth it, if only for this one moment of her looking at him like that. Like he was the one thing that mattered in her world right now.

 

"The best," he agreed, and for some reason his voice sounded like it was about to break.

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

I will not write 'The End', because really, this is only the beginning for them, yes? ;)


End file.
